


the magic of westeros

by masochisticmasturbation



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Robert's Rebellion, Elia Martell Lives, F/M, I promise it gets better, Magical Realism, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Queen Elia Martell, brain vomit, my summaries suck, no beta - we die like main characters in the show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:27:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 73,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27317731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masochisticmasturbation/pseuds/masochisticmasturbation
Summary: magic has awoken in westeros, though not in ways we all expected.~ancestral magic saves elia of dorne, ancestral magic that awakens within her.but it also awakens in others.rhaegar targaryen has also lived, though none can explain how.how will this magic change the coming of the white walkers? how will this magic change the politics of westeros and the future of the realm?
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Oberyn Martell, Elia Martell & Lyanna Stark, Elia Martell & Oberyn Martell, Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen, Jaime Lannister & Elia Martell, Jaime Lannister/Elia Martell, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, relationship tags to be added later
Comments: 262
Kudos: 128





	1. fight

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Father, Brother, King](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20748338) by [chss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chss/pseuds/chss). 



> so...here i am again...will i complete this fic? the world may never know. though i plan to. 
> 
> the summary sucks but i promise i have a plan. 
> 
> many other fics inspired this one and when i look through my bookmarks, i will source them here so you may see the excellence of writing.
> 
> \---
> 
> (this fic is partly inspired by Father, Brother, King by chss. the magic they brought forth made SO much sense for the worlds. as such, you may see some similarities with some of the magic in this fic and theirs. but please please read their fic and it’s sequel! it is so much better than my fic and it is an amazing piece of work!)

Elia watched in horror as the knight known as the Mountain Who Rides approached her with a slimy smile on his face. The Dornishwoman was still in shock at the gray and gory mess that still lingered on Ser Gregor Clegane’s hands, the larger evidence of his actions stained in an odd mixture of gray and scarlet red on the wall next to the bed. 

Gregor climbed on the bed, straddling the brown skinned woman. His large hands--no, _paws_ , grabbed at either side of Elia’s gown and pulled, tearing every layer of clothing she had on right through the middle. 

Elia couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. Her body felt ice cold with shock, horror, and bone chilling, bone rattling _fear._ Suddenly, she felt a wave of warmth come across her body. It was as if she was in the Water Gardens in her birthplace of Dorne. It felt like water...crashing over her. _Fight!_ A voice screamed in her head. _Fight! You are blood of the dragon and of Valyria. You are blood of the First Men, you are blood of the Andals. But most importantly, you are blood of the Rhoynar. The magic of the Mother Rhoyne and of Nymeria flow within you. We do not bend, break, or bow. Now_ **_fight_** _!_

She blinked and suddenly, she knew what to do. She quickly lifted her hands and grabbed Gregor’s face and stabbed her sharpened nails into the inner corners of his eye sockets. She pressed down as hard as she could, feeling her own hands and fingers throb with pain. 

Gregor screamed and wrenched himself off of her body, his hands going to his now bleeding eyes. “You whore!” He spat. He tore across the room, one hand in front of him to find her body. “I am going to gut you and have fun with your torture. The Old Lion told me to make it fast, but I won’t! Come to me and die!” 

Elia jumped off her bed and grabbed the dagger she always kept on her thigh. She waited until he turned away from her, and when he did, she sliced the dagger on the side of his neck. Blood spurted out and covered her face, the parts of her body that were on display, and the remnants of her clothing. She didn’t blink. She kicked at his kneecaps, feeling and hearing a pleasurable _crunch_ as she did, watching him fall to the ground on his knees. She leaned down and stabbed her dagger through the bottom of his chin, through his mouth. “Stop screaming,” she said calmly. She watched as he writhed in pain, not knowing which part of his body to grab first. His blood flowed continuously from his neck wound, but his veins around the wound were started to blacken. She grabbed his hair and pulled. “I am the blood of Nymeria. Did you really think I wouldn’t fight back? Aerys has killed my spirit, but the Mother Rhoyne brought it back to me,” she hissed.

Even dying, Gregor was unbearable. “I til kill ou oy King,” he managed to say around the dagger in his mouth.

Not blinking, Elia shook her head. “You did not kill my son, your so-called boy King. You killed a boy. A poor peasant boy who’s life was going to leave this life by the sunrise anyway. Aegon is far from here, and safe. It is you who will die, dog,” she spat. “If not from your life’s blood leaving your body, then from the poison tipped from my dagger.” 

“Lor Thywin ill ave ou hea,” Gregor groaned, his voice weaker. He groaned as Elia took the dagger from his chin. 

Elia took in a deep breath and pulled Gregor’s head back. She shut her eyes and hacked. She sung to herself a song that her mother sang to her as her arm moved back and forth. A song in the tongue of the Rhoynar. A song thanking the Mother Rhonye. _“Your waters have saved me, dear Mother Rhoyne. I drink and I watch, I bathe and I live. You give me my strength, and I give you my worship. You come to me in needed time, and I give my soul to you. For you saved me, Mother Rhoyne. Your magic in me, your love in me. I sing this song to you and to hold your memory close, I sing this song to my daughters and sons, so they know that your presence will show.”_

Lost to her memories so that this horrific act wouldn’t live on in her mind, she could picture her mother singing this to a young Elia, holding her in her arms. Memories she’d long forgotten came to her again. Flooding her mind’s eye. 

Her mother taking her to a small room in their palace, jars and jars of blue and silver waters all around. Her mother taking a handful of the water and taking Elia’s hand and making the water move back and forth. The water somehow rising in the air, a tornado in its appearance. 

Her mother bringing her to the orphaned Greenbloods of the Rhonye in secret and learning ancient letters of the Rhonyar. 

The door burst open and Ser Jaime Lannister came charging though, one arm holding the Princess Rhaenys and the other, his sword unsheathed. His eyes widened at the blood filled room. “Princess…” he choked out. “Rhaenys, close your eyes,” he commanded. The little girl’s face was in his neck anyways, but he wanted to make sure she didn’t see the horror.

Elia holding Gregor Clegane’s head by the hair and the Mountain’s body, bleeding on the floor. Blood covered her every inch. She looked like a fierce woman Warrior. 

Jaime was instantly reminded of the stories of Nymeria. Elia looked like Nymeria come again. 

Elia blinked, not caring she was almost bare to the young lion. She turned to her small chest and took out a sack. She threw Gregor’s head in the sack. She then pulled out a large quilt. Except...it wasn’t a quilt. It was her marriage cloak. Her Targaryen marriage cloak. She threw it over her body, covering her. She didn’t bother to change or remove her tattered dress. She wanted them to see. “Come Ser Jaime. I am tasking you to protect me and the Princess. Seeing as your father ordered mine and my children’s deaths, you _will_ cooperate with me. Lest you befall a fate like your fellow knight,” she raised a calm eyebrow to the shocked Lannister.

“My--what?” Jaime’s emerald green eyes widened. He was confused. His father _ordered_ this? How? 

Elia sighed, tired. Her energy felt depleted. “Come Jaime,” she said softly again. “I will explain on the way to the throne. I must sit in it to hold it for my...husband. And if he perished. Then for my son.”

“But…” Jaime looked at the wall. He did not need to say what he thought of the remnants of human that stained the wall. 

Elia shook her head. “That was not my son. But that poor soul who sacrificed his life for Aegon will not have died in vain.” She walked next to Jaime. 

“Mama,” Rhaenys mumbled.

Elia lifted the hand that wasn’t holding a sack and held her daughter’s outstretched hand. She leaned and kissed her fingertips. “I am here, sweetling. I will always be here.”

“Mama...I scared,” Rhaenys whispered.

Elia took in a deep breath, her heart breaking. “I know, my love. But you must be strong. Think about Mother Rhonye. Think about Nymeria. You must be strong,” she repeated. She sang a line from her song. ” _For you saved me, Mother Rhoyne...”_

Rhaenys continued the song.

Jaime watched as mother and daughter sang a song in a tongue he had never heard before. But their voices together sounded haunting. Beautiful. It felt like he was floating. 

They finally entered the throne room.


	2. queen

The doors of the room burst open, a large party storming in. Robert Baratheon led the way, his war hammer in his hand. Behind one shoulder was Ned Stark, an impressive sword in his hands. No, it was not the famed northern sword Ice, for that sword sat atop a box containing the bones of Ned’s father and brother. On Robert’s other shoulder was Jon Arryn, visibly older compared to the two younger wards of his, but no less fierce in image. Multiple other soldiers filled in the gaps behind the three men leading the rebellion. 

It was quite a sight that befell the men of the rebellion. Princess Elia, blood spatter all over her face, neck, and hair, with a crown on her head. On her lap was a brown sack. Though, at the bottom of the sack, it was stained with wet scarlet. Ser Jaime Lannister sat at the bottom step of the throne, patiently waiting, looking almost bored. An image of his father in battle. King Aerys Targayen’s body lay at the bottom of the steps of the dais. Blood around him. 

Quite a sight indeed. 

When the men stormed in, Jaime stood up from his seat at the bottom of the throne and unsheathed his sword. 

“Lannister, what is the meaning of this!” Robert Baratheon bellowed.

“I am protecting the Queen and the Princess Rhaenys,” Jaime simply spoke. His sword arm never shook. 

Elia watched the menfolk calmly, sitting on the famed Iron Throne. Their eyes fluttered between the image of a Dornish woman on a throne, a Lannister wielding a sword, and their King dead. She smirked slightly as she tried to imagine what they thought occurred in the throne room. Of course, none could come close to what actually happened. 

“What happened to the King?” Jon Arryn spoke with the same calmness as Jaime. The calmness that his Stormlander ward lacked. 

“Would you believe me if we found him like this?” Elia raised an eyebrow.

“No, we would not, Princess Elia,” Lord Tywin Lannister walked through the three lead men, his attire resplendently red, though not covered in blood as everyone else would. 

Elia turned her head slightly. “Would you believe the word of your son, my Lord? The one who was tasked to protect his King?” She offered. 

Tywin’s eyes tightened slightly. He turned to his son. “Jaime. The King?” He asked simply.

“Dead. Once he heard the garrison that was led in by Pycelle, he ordered his flamemakers to his side,” Jaime never once took his sword down, still pointed at the mob, but his free hand gestured to the gold goblet that lay on the floor. “Believing he himself was a dragon, he ordered his flamemakers to make him a glass of wildfire. He drank and then ordered his flamemakers to burn the city down. That he, and he alone, would rise, a dragon incarnate, and burn any of his enemies down,” he sighed and shook his head. “He drank, then fell. He cut himself all the way down the throne before one of the melted swords cut at his neck and took his life’s blood. I slew Pycelle and the flamemakers for giving him what they knew was poison and before they could go through with the King’s orders to massacre a city. I then saved the now Queen Elia and her daughter the Princess Rhaenys.”

The garrison of men mumbled to themselves. Some took a closer look at the King, wanting to verify the allegation that Jaime made. When they looked upon Aerys, they could see multiple slash wounds all over his face and hands, and one large wound on his neck. 

“And...your Grace?” Jon Arryn chose his words carefully. He did not want to call her Queen, as Rhaegar was presumed dead, and Robert was to take the throne, but he wanted to respect her position as a Princess and a royal. “The blood on you?”

Elia sighed. Then looked to Tywin who’s eyes were squinted in suspicion. “I presume that after the garrison was led in, a specific order was given to murder my babes and I. So that your Lord Robert’s path to the throne was clearer.” 

“Insolence! She lies!” Robert yelled. He clenched his war hammer tighter. 

Ned looked to his friend. “Let her speak, Robert. You slew your enemy," he told him. "The Princess Elia has done nothing to you to gain your ire.” Once his friend was calmer, he continued. “Who, your Grace? Who’s blood is on you? And who gave the orders?”

Jon Arryn chanced a glance at Tywin who stood pin straight.

“I believe this shall answer both questions in one, my Lord Stark,” Elia stated simply. She grasped the sack in both hands and upended it. The head of Gregor Clegane rolled down the many steps of the iron throne, the thuds echoing loudly, rolling to a stop right on top of Robert Baratheon’s feet. “The Mountain That Rides, Ser Gregor Clegane. Your man...am I correct, Lord Tywin?” She gave a small smile to the Lord of the West. 

Tywin’s eyes widened briefly, just enough that only Elia saw, before he quickly controlled his expression as the men around him murmured loudly. 

_ “To kill a babe?” _

_ “To kill the Princess?” _

_ “The Princess Elia and her babes were prisoners here, Lewyn said.” _

_ “Ser Clegane is known to be Lord Tywin’s fist.” _

Tywin cleared his throat over the whispers. “My man, yes. But I did not give the orders.”

Elia laughed, a musical laugh that sent a chill down every man in the room’s spine. “Ah, so the Old Lion that he spoke of was not you. And I will assume there is another Lannister with the name of Tywin, yes? Such a coincidence, my Lord...Tywin," she smiled, her eyes sharp in its gaze. 

The murmurs grew louder.

“Seize him,” Ned spoke to his men. 

Two men grabbed each side of Lord Tywin and held him.

Lannister men unsheathed their swords and Stark men did the same. Baratheon and Arryn soldiers looked from side to side not knowing what to do. 

As the shouts grew louder, Elia rolled her eyes. “Silence!” She hissed. “Listen to Lord Stark’s orders!” She directed the men. “Seize Lord Tywin, but  _ only _ seize him. He has a right to rebuttal,” she said. _Not that she’d allow him to,_ she thought to herself. “And I am not finished with the retelling of my ordeal.”

Elia reached into her makeshift coat of her marriage cloak and pulled out her dagger. “Clegane’s last words were that Lord Tywin would have my head. Ah a sweet mercy though, you ordered your dog to make it fast. At least until I stuck my thumbs in his eyes,” she lifted her hands and turned her bloodied thumbs to the now growing crowd. The commoners were now joining.  _ Good, _ she thought.  _ Let them see me at the throne so these men cannot try to usurp me and then lie about it. Let them hear the claims and spread them to the Seven Kingdoms. _

Robert kicked Gregor’s head and picked it up. He inspected the cut off head and nodded. “His eyes are gouged,” he agreed. 

“Although I will assume you, Lord Tywin, did not order him to rape me, though he tried,” Elia stood, removing her marriage cloak and displaying her torn gown. She carefully positioned the gown so that her breasts and lower region did not show, but the sentiment was still shown. She was almost brutalized. She smiled briefly at the gasps that echoed among the court. 

Elia continued. “As the dog tried to find his eyes, I took the dagger that my brother gave me and stabbed him. My dagger has poison at the tip, you see? It prolongs death and causes extreme pain once it touches blood. I wanted to hear who gave him the orders. That is when he murmured your name, Lord Tywin." She sighed slightly. "I can see why you would want my babes dead; any blood of Rhaegar’s could rightfully claim the throne. I could’ve been left alive. But no,” she shook her head and walked down the steps carefully. She looked fierce; bloodied and with a crown on her head. “Aerys slighted you when he chose me for Rhaegar over your Cersei. So you wanted me dead. My mother, the late Princess Lorenza of Dorne slighted you. And though she is not alive, you wanted to slight her in death. To have her only daughter, the daughter chosen over your own, dead. I understand that,” she nodded. 

The crowd was silent, enthralled and enchanted by this woman who magically weaved together words and painted an image in their heads. How could anyone not believe her when she was covered in blood?

“But Lord Twyin?” She walked closer to him, with Jaime following closely behind her. “If Cersei was chosen...Rhaegar still would have left with Lyanna Stark for reasons still unknown. Cersei would have to deal with the horrors of the Red Keep. Imagine...Cersei, watching as men, women, and children burned for little to no reason. Your golden daughter listening to the screams of our gracious Queen Mother Rhaella’s screams as Aerys brutalized her for more babes. Your Lannister genes being shamed because they were stronger than the Targaryen genes. And as we look at you and your family,” she looked back to Jaime and then stretched her head to see the golden haired Lannister soldiers behind Tywin. “The Lannister seed  _ is _ strong. Your daughter would have been shamed. Think of it as a mercy for your daughter that it was me, and not her. My brother trained me to fight. You trained her to rule. She would have perished. Not by your dog, no, but by Aerys himself. It is known your daughter bares a resemblance to your beloved late wife Joanna, yes? Aerys said he didn’t bother with me because I was too Dornish looking. Imagine what her presence would have done to a depraved and crazed mind?” 

Tywin’s eyes were fierce with anger, and with realization. Elia was right. 

“Lord Tywin, did you give the orders?” Jon Arryn asked. 

Elia looked at the Lannister ruler in his eyes, tilting her head slightly. She knew he was calculating what to do. 

“I demand a trial.”

Lord Tywin's words outraged the large room. There were shouts and bellows echoing and bouncing through the walls of the Red Keep.

Among it, Elia laughed. She turned her back and walked back up the throne. 

“We are still at war, Lord Tywin. You will have your trial once all of the soldiers are recalled and the men are returned to their families. Once the burials and last rites of our loved ones have taken place, only then you shall have your trial,” Elia ordered. She watched at the common folk nodded their heads in agreement with her.

“And who are you to order this?” Robert shook his head, still angry. 

Elia raised an eyebrow. “The only one with enough sense and with enough royal blood to command you, _Lord_ Baratheon. Need I remind you that I am a Princess twice over," she nonchalantly touched her crown. "By birth and by marriage. If Rhaegar is truly dead, my son is King. And since my son is nothing more than a babe, I rightfully rule as Regent. And if you still object to this, I am a Princess of Dorne, my mother's spare. She taught me to rule as a precaution. As many ruling lords teach their spares. Someone needs to be able to bring order amongst King’s Landing and amongst the Seven Kingdoms. Tell me, Lord Robert, will that be you, Lord Arryn, or Lord Stark? Which one of you knows this city, nay, this _kingdom_ well enough to be able to lead it?”

The three named men were silent. 

"I have walked the streets of King's Landing. I have been to all but two of the seven lands that make this Kingdom, which is certainly more than I can say for you three," she laughed. "I have given money to those in need, I have fed, clothed, and bathed many a citizen here. I know these faces, and I know their losses. It would be an insult to continue this...game of thrones at their expense. We will honor their loved one's sacrifices and grieve them. Once the last man is buried, and the realm is stable again, then we will have Lord Tywin's trial," she spoke. "Until then, he can sit in the Black Cells as we bury our men, heal our women, and feed our children.  We shall discuss all after we grieve our fallen,” Elia commanded.

“What of my sister?” Ned dared to speak. 

Elia flared her nostrils at the thought of the woman who partially caused this war. “I expect word of this...convergence to reach wherever she is. And since many of the Kingsguard are not here and were not here since Rhaegar left for battle, I can only assume some went to guard your sister...hmm, yet another mercy that was not given to me and my babes,” she mused falsely. She wanted the crowd to hear Rhaegar’s actions. It could come in handy for her. “If some Kingsguard do guard your sister, I command this for all to hear and to relay the message; bring back the Lady Lyanna Stark safely back to her brother. We shall discuss her actions and Rhaegar’s actions, along with the trial of Tywin then.”

“Your husband took my betrothed!” Robert bellowed. “Lyanna had no action in this mess.”

Elia laughed and crossed her legs at the throne. “You must think women so meek, Lord Robert. I cannot believe you claim to love your Lyanna when you did not know she was the Knight of the Laughing Tree from Harrenhal!"

Gasps again filled the room. The tale of the Knight of the Laughing Tree was well known. It was a wonderful new tale mothers told their sons who aspired to be knights. The identity of the Knight was always a famed mystery. 

"Impossible," Robert shook his head.

Elia rolled her eyes. "Lady Lyanna was present at every single event, I would know, I was there as well. During the Knight of the Laughing Tree's battle, she was gone. The Knight was seen to be of a smaller stature. And what of the Knight's sigil...a laughing tree? A tree with a face on it...not unlike the well worshipped weirwood trees of the North," she turned to Ned. "And it was known that Lyanna carried the wolf's blood...do tell me, Lord Stark...would your sister not have taken up in arms to defend those men?"

Ned looked down. "Aye, she would."

"Your...betrothed is a fierce woman and would not allow a man to cart her off. Not when she can defend herself as she did at the tourney. Not even for glory did she battled,” Elia continued to Robert. 

“You believe she went willingly?” Ned blinked.

“We shall find out when she arrives, Lord Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen...i know i suck at writing. i know the politics and everything is probably wrong, but its what is coming from my brain. please don't flame me if it doesn't fit with your idea of this world or doesn't seem realistic.
> 
> anyways...let me know what you think of this! please review. as any authors will tell you, it really does help us write more.


	3. strategy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like this story may not be making sense, lol. at least it isn't to me. it feels like just a random stream of consciousness in a story form, lol. i have no real plan, i am just writing as the story tells me what to do. and occasionally, i get a "glimpse" of what's to come so then i try to maneuver the story to the plots that come to my mind. 
> 
> i promise the magic will be brought up. but right now elia has the matters of bullshit policy to deal with and to help heal a country that her husband ruined. she isn't thinking about the force that saved her yet because her mind can't deal with it now, not when it has so many other things to deal with.
> 
> thank you for the feedback last chapter! i know i'm posting these fast, but for some reason, i just can't stop writing this. i've never had this experience before, lol. 
> 
> sorry for the long note! but let me know what you think!
> 
> \---

As they waited for the bodies of the fallen to be returned to their homelands, Elia kindly asked some of the commoners to assist as part of the court and help each Lord to their rooms. She promised to protect them and pay them handsomely and install them as servants to the castle. 

That night though, she continued to sit on the Iron Throne, watching as the room cleared. 

Once it was empty, Jaime finally sheathed his sword and turned to her. “Your Grace?”

Elia stared at the door to the throne room, blinking blankly. “I suppose since you are the only Kingsguard here, you must remain by my side,” she spoke robotically, her mind running through many choices in her head. “I am sorry about your father, Jaime,” she blinked and turned to him. “I say this as your friend, not your Queen. You and I have grown close because of our...tortuous experience here. It was not what we thought it would be, you the youngest Kingsguard, and me a Crown Princess. Then Rhaegar took his father’s Kingsguard and left you here, alone…” she shook her head. “I am sorry about your father,” she repeated. 

Jaime shook his head. “I do not know what to say, Elia,” he whispered. He felt okay enough to speak her name improperly of her title as she did away with his. “I am ashamed by his actions, and I would be in disbelief if the evidence of his it did not sit atop the throne,” he looked up to her. “I found Ser Amory Lorch in the nursery...ready to stab Rhaenys,” he admitted. “Rhaenys,” he laughed unamusedly. “She is but a sweet child. She harms no one. Who could harm her?” He shook his head. “Then I heard your scream, and I remembered I was charged to protect you all. I slew Ser Lorch, grabbed little Rhaenys in my arms and ran to your room. When I opened the door, I thought I was dreaming. I thought I saw Nymeria come to life. You held Gregor’s head in your hands.”

Jaime turned his back to Elia and sat on the bottom step of the iron throne, exactly as he sat when the crowd came in. He placed his head in his hands. “As you commanded, I took Rhaenys to Lord Varys, entrusting in your words that he would keep her safe. I went back to your rooms, still disbelieving your words that my father ordered this. So I searched his pockets,” he snorted. “I pickpocketed a dead man’s pockets like I was a beggar.”

Elia took in a deep breath and walked down the steps of the iron throne. She sat next to Jaime and took his hand in hers. 

“I found a note,” Jaime reached into his armor and handed Elia a parchment. “ _ The Mountain shall overtake the Sun and do away with the Dragons that still crawl _ ,” he read off coldly, having memorized the words. “It is unsigned and unsealed, but I know my father’s hand.”

Elia’s bloodied fingers traced over the death sentence that could’ve been the end of her and her children. “Will you submit this for evidence at his trial?” She asked quietly.

Jaime inhaled. “If I do, I betray my family. If I don’t, I betray you,” he turned to her. His other hand covered hers. “Elia. You speak truth. We have bonded over these travesties. You have a true friend in me. But I honor my family as I honor you. If I choose one side, I turn my back on the other,” he shook his head, his thoughts becoming too much for him.

Elia placed her head on his shoulder, needing comfort. “I found the note,” she told him. 

“What?” Jaime looked down at her, shocked.

“You came in with Rhaenys and we took to leave for the throne room, but I remembered that when the Mountain was atop of me, a piece of parchment fell from his pockets. I turned and grabbed the note,” she explained, lifting her head to look at Jaime. “You are my friend, Jaime. The only other person in this damned world that understands my darkness with all of the horrors we’ve seen, for you carry the same darkness in you,” she placed her hand on his armor, above where his heart would be. “Though we did not go to battle, we saw war. I will not allow you to lose your family, or me. I found the note. I compared it to your father’s hand in documents kept in the council room and confirmed it to be his,” she explained simply. 

An offering. She was giving him an offering. A way out of this tangled mess. 

“Elia…” Jaime breathed.

Elia lifted her head from his shoulder. 

“I don’t know how I can repay you for this,” he shook his head, his golden locks falling in his face. 

Elia smiled, brushing the few locks of hair behind his ear. “This is my repayment to you. You saved Rhaenys and I.”

Jaime frowned. “But not Aegon,” he questioned.

“Aegon is safe. Lord Varys will be bringing him back to me and I will rule until he comes of age. I will teach him as my mother taught me,” she confessed. “Now...I am exhausted, and I imagine you are too, Jaime the Brave,” she jested.

“But your room is bloodied,” Jaime smiled at the nickname, but frowned as he remembered the sight of her room. 

Elia shook her head. “I will be sleeping in the nursery. There is a hidden wall in there, and behind it a secret room. You will join me,” she commanded. “Jaime, you look exhausted. I cannot have my Queensguard Captain falling over on his duty because he did not sleep proper,” she laughed. 

Jaime’s eyes widened. “Your Grace?”

Elia smirked. “You saved us.”

“I saved Rhaenys, you saved yourself,” Jaime pointed out.

Elia breathed in. “So I did...but nonetheless, you protected me when the rebellion stormed into the throne room. Had you not, I have no doubts that they would’ve taken me off the throne and usurped my son’s rightful position. You protected my position,” she reiterated. “You saved us.”

~*~*~*~

In the morning, Elia commanded everyone back to the throne room. She sat on the iron throne, finally cleaned of all of the blood from the night before. She wore a dress of Dornish style, but deep red in color, for her Targaryen marriage, with a rope in black tying the gown together. She wore a silver crown that looked more like a headpiece. A dragon arched up on either side of her temples, roaring towards each other. One dragon arched up from her forehead, meeting the other dragons in the air. A red ruby was in the middle of her forehead on her silver crown. The silver of the crown shone brightly through her black locks of hair that hung loosely around her body.

(please ignore the blonde hair, lol. i just really love this crown for elia as a show of power.)

Elia looked like a fierce queen, matching the fierceness of her legend that was now starting to spread through King’s Landing and beyond. 

Jaime took his position, standing at the last step of the dais, protecting his Queen. 

She waited until the room was filled, both with the men of the rebellion, and with the new servants of the Red Keep, and the commoners. “Thank you for gathering here today for me. I know we are all still grieving, but as Queen Regent I have a responsibility to address any false rumors. My son, the King Aegon still lives. I know some people,” her eyes glared down at Robert Baratheon, who looked taken aback by her eyes. “Have spread that he was killed by Gregor Clegane but that is false,” she took in a deep breath. “Lord Varys,” she turned her head to the right. 

Lord Varys walked in, holding a small child in his arms. 

“Ser Jaime, would you please bring my son to me?” Elia asked. 

Jaime carefully grabbed Aegon from Varys and walked up the metal steps and gently placed him in his mother’s arms. He snuck a glance at her and gave her a small smile. “Your Grace,” he bowed his head. 

“As you can see, Aegon lives,” Elia lifted her son, displaying his silver curls atop his head and his bright purple eyes taking in the crowd. 

Aegon cooed, chewing on his hand. “Ma!” He squealed.

Elia smiled, taking her son back into her arms and rocking him slightly. “Hush now, my King. Mama is here,” she told him. 

The women in the crowd cooed softly as they saw their Queen turn into a mother caring for her son, like many of them were. 

“How does the King live?” Ned asked the question on everyone’s minds. 

“Once the garrison of soldiers were let in by Maester Pycelle, Lord Varys came to me offering to smuggle my son away, in order to protect him. He knew there was a large possibility that Rhaegar was gone and Aerys would be killed, we wanted to make sure the succession was still there. He gave me a small blond child, sickly in nature. I could see the small babe masquerading as my son would not live to see today,” Elia’s eyes were shut as she recalled the actions that saved her son. “When Gregor scaled the wall where the window of my room was, he instantly grabbed the child in my arms and…” she took in a deep breath. “He gouged its eyes out and crushed his head with his large hands. He then threw his body on the wall.”

Gasps of horror filled the room.

Elia held her son tighter and placed a kiss on his head. “I intend to honor the unnamed babe who sacrificed his short life unknowingly for our King. But that is how our King Aegon lives.”

“What happened to the King Rhaegar?” A voice from the audience called out.

Robert laughed. “I slew him. I slammed my war hammer right on his chest and killed him.”

_ Kingslayer! _

_ Kinslayer! _

Shouts filled the room. Robert shouted back along with his Stormlander soldiers. 

“Enough!” Elia commanded. 

The room filled with silence immediately. 

“Until King Rhaegar’s body is brought to me, we will presume that he lives,” Elia mused. 

“I killed him! You are trying to usurp my justice!” Robert bellowed, daring to step closer to the throne. 

Jaime stood before him, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. “Step back, Lord Baratheon. Now,” he growled. 

Elia rolled her eyes. “A man who tried to usurp me and my son speaks about usurping, interesting,” she looked upon Robert. “You all once thought me dead, and yet here I live,” her eyes met every single person in the room. “Clearly words are wind in this current tumultuous time. We must only trust proof in the moment.” She sighed. “I find myself not caring about the games that we as royals are playing. It may sound strange, but I cannot find myself caring about the actions of Rhaegar,” she lied. “Not when so many of our smallfolk are bleeding in the streets, starving, and suffering.” 

Elia knew in order to maintain her position, she would need the love of the people. She did love the smallfolk, it was no manipulation. But in order to make sure that she can serve them properly, she needed their affection to keep her on the throne. Her mother taught her that. 

_ “Ruling is not easy, my love,” Lorenza once told her as she sat in her solar in the palace of Sunspear. “You must juggle the selfish needs of many ruling Lords with the more important needs of the smallfolk. Always give in to your people. Your position in life, as Princess, was a stroke of luck, an order from the Gods. But you must humble yourself. The people are greater than us. One drop of water can make someone ill, but a wave can kill a person.” _

“I will be calling two councils, of which the Lords of the Rebellion will join me in both,” Elia mentioned. “One will be for the matters of the people, the other to settle the matters of the Rebellion and rectifying the mistakes of my husband and my late good father, your Kings. I implore the people, find me one person from your crowd to come join us and give us your decrees. What do you need most? What shall assist you to heal? How can we, as royals and leaders,” she gestured to herself and to the ruling Lords in front of her. “Help you?”

“With these matters settled, I will reconvene to the small council to settle the political matters now,” Elia commanded. “Lords Baratheon, Stark, Arryn, please follow me.” She walked down, not looking at her feet as she wanted to display a show of fearlessness where many Kings who sat on the throne were terrified of being slashed by the sharp swords along the steps of the throne. 

  
"Nymeria indeed," Jaime muttered amusedly as he watched Elia walk to the side door with Aegon in her arms and not sparing a glance to anyone else. 


	4. council

Once Elia dismissed the audience she gathered, she called the Lords of the rebellion to the small council room. She sat in a small throne, with three dragons screaming over the top of the seat. She gave her son to a maid who was in charge of watching over the nursery. The maid’s husband was charged to protect the nursery, and considering since his own child was in there, Elia knew he would protect the children in there. 

She waited patiently as Lord Varys bowed his head and sat on her left. 

“Jaime, please sit beside me. You are Lord Commander of the Queensguard, you have a place at this table,” Elia gestured to the seat across Varys. 

Jaime bowed. “You humble me, your Grace.” He took his seat. 

Robert Baratheon proved his birthplace as fact as he stormed into the small council room. Ned and Jon Arryn walked quietly behind him. “Let us begin this farce,” Robert scraped the chair that sat directly across Elia. 

Elia smiled softly. “We must wait for the rest of the small council to arrive. We are missing our Masters of Coin, of Laws, and of Ships.”

“What of your Lord Commander of the Kin--Queensguard,” Jon Arryn corrected himself. “And Grand Maester?”

“And your Hand?” Ned added. 

“Ser Jaime will be Lord Commander of the Queenguard,” Elia said simply.

Robert barked a laugh. “Him? A green boy?”

Elia raised an eyebrow, staring sternly at Robert. “No green boy, Lord Robert. He slew many men to protect his Queen and is the only Queensguard I trust. Do you see Ser Gerold Hightower here? No. He is more than likely with Ser Arthur Dayne, and Ser Oswell Whent, the Gods know where they be. Ser Jonothor Darry fled with the Queen Mother, Prince Viserys, and the babe in her belly. Queen Rhaella is in childbed now, and once she has recovered will return.”

“There were storms on the way, Queen Rhaella has lived?” Jon Arryn questioned.

“Yes,” Elia nodded. “I have received a raven from the Queen Mother this morning, she tells me of the storms that she barely survived with her Kingsguard and her son. They remain on Dragonstone until a trusted fleet of Dornish ships come to bring her to the capital.”

“Why Dornish fleets? Why not Lord Velaryon’s or the King’s fleet?” Robert narrowed his eyes.

“Because at this point, Dornish people are the only people Queen Rhaella trusts. Her own husband brutalized her and ordered a city to die, her own nephew in you, Lord Robert, betrays his family legacy,” she held a hand up. “Yes, I know Rhaegar betrayed your family connection first, but how is Queen Rhaella not to expect you to not murder her when you screamed ‘Death to the Dragons’ all the way down to King’s Landing?” She pointed out. “The North and the Vale are allied with you, Lord Tywin’s forces were already at the doors of King’s Landing, and the soldiers of the Reach quickly died off. Dornish soldiers were kept as pawns for battle because myself and my babes stayed in the capital. Tell me, Lord Robert, in this occurrence, who would you trust with the life of yourself and your babes?”

Robert flared his nostrils. “I see.”

“I have sent word for my brother Oberyn to be Grand Maester until Oldtown can elect one of their own to send,” Elia smirked as she knew Robert would again have an outburst.

“Are you fucking jesting?” Robert bellowed.

“Robert, respect your Queen,” Jon Arryn turned his head to his ward. 

“No, I am not fucking jesting, my Lord,” Elia let out a laugh as the eyes of the men in the room widened, not used such a prominent woman cursing. “My brother studied at the Citadel before leaving.”

“Yes, he left, he did not achieve the chains necessary to become a Maester,” Jon Arryn reminded the Queen.

“He got bored,” Elia shrugged, smile still on her face. “Nothing at the Citadel challenged him. He read all of the books and bored himself,” she rolled her eyes. “Oberyn has helped to treat me in my iller days in Dorne. He has a knowledge of potions and medicines. He will make a fine substitute maester until Oldtown selects one. I don’t suppose any of you have any maester training?” She lowered her head, clearly rhetorical in her question. 

“As for my Hand…” Elia sighed. “I must still ponder that. I have a name in mind,” her eyes glanced to Lord Arryn, who blinked in surprise and sat up straight. “But I have to see if I may trust him. If I cannot, I have another name, though I, myself, do not trust him. I dare say I will allow my council to have a say.” 

“And what of the matter of my Lyanna, and justice for Jon for his nephew and heir’s death, and for the deaths of Brandon and Rickard Stark?” Robert cut to the chase. 

Elia glared at him. “I have as many men as I can spare looking for Lady Lyanna. If I know Rhaegar...he took her to Dorne.”

Robert slammed his hand on the table. “To Dorne? You have a hand in this!” He pointed harshly at Elia as he accused her.

“Stay your hand, Lord Robert, lest I order my Lord Commander to take it from you,” Elia hissed, placing her palms on the table in front of her as she stood abruptly. “If I had any part of this, I would have sent back the Lady Lyanna in an instant. But I had no part. Do you really think I would not have absconded with them in order to avoid this bloody Keep?” Elia walked towards a side table overlooking a window and poured herself a goblet of water. She shook her head. “No, Rhaegar took her there because it is the safest place for him. That is what my mother told him long ago, and the idiot believed her. However, my dunce of a husband has a Kingsguard of Dorne with him who knows the lands as well as I do,” she took a sip.

“Ser Arthur Dayne,” Jon Arryn spoke the name that Elia would not. 

“Yes,” Elia confirmed. “So I have commanded my brother, the Prince of Dorne, to look in every sand dune, every abandoned castle, every possible place in Dorne. If she is here, we shall make sure she is safe and healed from anything that ails her and then bring her here,” Elia turned her goblet against her face, allowing the cold metal to warm her heated face. “Lord Stark,” Elia walked back to her chair, choosing to stand. “I have bid our Silent Sisters to look up the proper way to handle your father and brother’s bodies; in the Northern tradition. They lay in our small godswood with men of the Faith watching over them. I know you keep to the Old Gods, but these men of the Faith that I have entrusted have also studied your religion,” she nodded. “I wanted to make their lying in was done with the utmost respect,” she cleared her throat as memories of their brutal deaths came across her. 

“Thank you, your Grace,” Ned whispered. “It is surprising that you allowed their bodies to be prepared in the Northern way, but it is a gracious kindness of you,” he placed his hand on his beard and grasped at his chin. “You saw--” he coughed. “You saw their murders?” He wasn’t there, and it would always shame him that he couldn’t do more.

Elia closed her eyes. “Aye, I did,” she nodded. 

“Please, your Grace,” Ned bid for her to explain.

“‘Tis not a respectable nor pretty tale, Lord Stark,” Elia opened her eyes, tears welling in them. Her arms crossed, holding each other. “Rickard demanded a trial and Aerys chose wildfire as the Targaryen champion. Aerys had Brandon tied at a stake by his neck with a sword out of reach. Then he burned Rickard,” she blinked, tears falling down her face as her mind’s eyes took her back to that moment. “Brandon screamed, Rickard screamed, I screamed, Rhaenys screamed; everyone did. Brandon fought against his ropes, choking himself. I--I shouted. I made the mistake to shout,” Elia grabbed at a necklace she wore, the pendant being the sun and spear of House Martell. She played with the pendant, needing to move her fingers as they twitched. “I shouted for Aerys to stop this, to let Lord Brandon go. I do not know what came across me. I’ve never screamed at the King, even when he dismissed my daughter,” she shook her head. “But...I saw a kinship in you Starks,” Elia laughed dryly as she looked at Ned. “You will fight to your deaths for your family. We Martells believe in the same. I shouted and Aerys laid his fist on my face as I held Rhaenys, dropping us both to the floor,” she cut herself off, shakily breathing. 

Jaime cleared his throat. “The Queen’s shouts surprised Lord Brandon enough that he was able to free himself, but Aerys ordered his men to grab him again and re-tied him to the stake, where he died.” 

Elia breathed in sharply through her nostrils. “Aerys wanted to burn them, or throw their bodies in Blackwater Bay,” she shook her head. “Instead…” she gulped. “He sent their bodies to my rooms. ‘ _You defended the traitors, you will lay with the traitors’_ , his note was in my chambers as I screamed in surprise, not knowing he put their bodies in my room,” she shuddered. “A mercy that he did, perhaps,” her head tilted in contemplation. “I was able to ensure their bodies were treated with the respect they deserve.”

Ned’s eyes were shiny, but he shook his tears away. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it. 

“The ancestral sword of the Starks, Ice, yes?” Elia asked. “It is being delivered to your room now, Lord Stark. It’s a heavy thing,” she laughed slightly. “It is taking two men to bring it up. The Lords of Winterfell must truly be wielders of justice with a sword like that.”

“You’ve returned Ice, when you could keep it. Why?” Jon Arryn asked. 

Elia shrugged. “It is not my ancestral sword. It belongs to the Lords of Winterfell,” she said simply. 

“You do me a great kindness, your Grace. One that you do not need to give me,” Ned finally spoke. 

Elia shook her head. “I didn’t need to do anything, it’s what is right,” she looked at him in his eyes. “You, above all in this room, have been affected the most by this. Your sister taken, your father and brother murdered, you forced to become a Lord before you knew it. You did not ask for any of this. None of us did,” she looked around the room. “The only thing we can do is ask Lyanna and Rhaegar, if he lives, why?” 

Varys nodded. “Wise words, my Queen.”

A knock on the door broke the silence of the room. 

“Enter,” Elia commanded.

“Your Grace,” a small woman who wore a simple dress bowed her head as she entered the room. 

Elia smiled. “Your name...it’s Amira, is it not? You are the child of Rosana and a Jonseph?” 

The small red haired woman smiled brightly and nodded, revealing a toothy smile. Some of her teeth were missing. “Yes, m’lady--I mean, your Grace. My Pa went off to war, and my Ma is helping the orphanage.”

“A commendable task for a formidable woman,” Elia mused. “I heard your mother beat some of the men attempting to steal your virtue?”

Amira laughed. “Yes, your Grace. One was able to hit me, tis why I am missing my teeth, but my ma hit them with a club.” The young girl’s face darkened. “Another one was able to...take my sister harshly. She sits in our small home, scared of her own shadow. But the small pup that you and the Princess Rhaenys gave to us helps her on her bad days,” Amira smiled slightly. 

Elia smiled sadly. “Women and children are always the victims of war, are we not?” She chanced a glance at the men in the room who had the nerve to look abashed. “My dear, please tell me if your mother and any of the other women leading the orphanage need any more coin, I am sure the Crown can spare it, and if they can’t, I have a substantial fortune myself.”

Amira nodded. “I will relay the message, your Grace. Though I will say, your last donation helped a lot,” she looked down at her hands, remembering why she came in. “A raven came in for you, your Grace. It is from Winterfell.”

Eyes quickly shifted to Ned Stark.

“Are you certain it is for me, Amira?” Elia furrowed her brow.

“Yes, it says to the Queen Regent Elia and to Lord Ned Stark,” Amira handed the folded parchment to Elia. “‘Tis the same message address to the both of ye,” she said. 

Elia blinked as her fingers ran across the sealed wax containing the direwolf of House Stark. She took in a breath. “Thank you, my sweet Amira, you may take your leave.”

Amira smiled and curtsied. “Your Grace, my Lords,” she nodded at the men and then left.

“Lord Stark, do you read fast?” Elia questioned absentmindedly.

Ned’s eyebrows joined together. “Excuse me, your Grace?”

“Do you read fast?” She repeated. “It may not seem plausible, but I want us both to read your brother’s words simultaneously. My eyes are fast, my Lord. I’m asking if yours are the same.”

“I--yes,” Ned blinked. 

“Come,” Elia beckoned. She walked over to the medium desk behind her small council throne chair and turned her head, waiting for Ned to join her. Once he did, she nodded and her sharp nail tore at the wax.

Seeing her bare nails rip at the wax so simply sent a chill down Ned’s back. Those same nails gouged Gregor Clegane’s eyes out. Already the barbs sing about Nymerelia, a fusion representing a strong woman in battle. 

Together, they read.

_‘To Queen Elia Targaryen, first of Her name, and my brother Lord Ned Stark, Lord of Winterfell. I implore you to heed this message. Lyanna is in Dorne. She willingly left with the Prince Rhaegar. They absconded in the night from Moat Cailin, Lyanna knowing it to be abandoned. There is where they traded letters. Lyanna entrusted me with her secret, but we did not know it could lead to war and the deaths of our father and brother. Queen Elia, I plead with you, be kind to my sister, for she knows not what she does. She wanted to run away from Lord Robert because of his infidelities, yet she did not realize she was turning your Rhaegar into her Robert. Lyanna tells me they are in a tower not far from Starfall, they call it the Tower of Joy. ...I am sorry to say...but she is with child. She is frightened and does not have any knowledge of childbirth. Find her please._

_\- Acting Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, Benjen Stark.’_

As Elia read the words ‘she is with child’, the breath left her body and she felt herself falling. Thankfully Ned caught her by her sides.

“Your Grace, are you okay?” Ned’s face was pale with the news that they both read. 

Elia turned to him, her head shaking as she stared into his eyes. She blinked, watching a stormy glance appear in the Northman’s eyes. “Lyanna is in Dorne,” she called out to the men. “Benjen Stark has received word from her.”

Robert stood up. “I will find her at once,” he pounded at his silver armour that he still wore.  
  


“Lord Baratheon, stay your hand!” Elia shouted. “If you were listening, I have already said that my brother Prince Doran has sent envoys to look for Lyanna. I will send a raven at once with her location,” her eyes never parted from Ned’s, the news taking them both off guard.

“Robert, you will not go looking for my sister. That is my duty as her brother,” Ned and Elia had a silent conversation with their eyes. 

“She is my betrothed, Ned!” Robert bellowed. 

“She is my sister, Robert!” Ned shouted back, making the men in the room jump. He silently approved as Elia did not even blink. “She is my sister. She is not a Baratheon, she is a Stark,” he turned his head to face his foster brother whose face was growing red in displeasure. “It is my duty as her brother and her liege Lord to find her. I will go and meet the Dornish men that Queen Elia bid her brother to use for the extraction of my sister.”

Elia nodded. “I will tell Doran to send a maester and a midwife as well,” she whispered to Ned. She finally turned to the men of her council. “It seems with this news, I must send ravens. We will reconvene on the morrow, I am sorry for this...misstep. You are dismissed.” Elia turned her back to the men and placed her hands on the desk. “Lord Stark, stay,” she commanded without turning. 

Once the men left the room, save for Jaime, taking his responsibility as Elia’s lead Queensguard, did Elia turn. 

“Your Grace?” Ned was nervous. He was scared to what she could say to him.

“Once you find your sister, and make sure she is well, you bring her to King’s Landing as soon as you are able,” Elia raised her eyebrow, making sure Ned knew this was a strict command to be followed. “Gods willing, she will birth this babe of hers here and I can speak to her about what actions our...children’s father did. Though,” she snorted, shaking her head. “I have an idea why he did this,” she clenched her teeth. 

“Aye, your Grace,” Ned nodded. Before he left, he grabbed her hand and kissed it. He kneeled by her feet, still holding her hand. “I know this is not proper, but your kindness when it was not needed...eased my soul. You did my family, my House, a generosity that your late good father did not,” he took in a deep breath and bowed his head. “I, Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, do solemnly swear to be your Liege Lord and command the lands that you cannot command yourself. I will shield your back and keep your counsel. I pledge my men to be your men in war and my sword to be your sword. I give my fealty to you, Queen Elia, first of her name, rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen of the Andals, of the Rhoynish, and of the First men. I pledge this and swear this to you, by the Old Gods and the New.”

Elia’s eyes widened as she blinked rapidly in surprise. Her head turned to Jaime, whose own eyes were wide. This was not what she was expecting. 

Elia cleared her throat. “I vow that you shall always have a place at my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. Furthermore, I ask you to give me council when I am in need of it, and to always be honest with me in order to further serve our people and the continuation of these Seven Kingdoms,” she added the last sentence because she did want the advice of her vassal lords. She needed to know what all of her people in each land needed, not just in King’s Landing. _I swear if Rhaegar is alive still after I have pledged to serve these people, I shall strike him myself, Kingslayer name be damned,_ she thought to herself. “I swear this to you by the Old Gods, and the New. Arise, Lord Stark.”

Ned kissed her hand again and stood. “I shall take my leave as soon as I can,” he told her. 

Elia nodded. “I will be sending my ravens forthwith. Go to the Master at Arms and tell him what supplies you need and what men you require, I suggest a party of no more than eight. More than that will arise suspicion.” 

Ned nodded. “Your Grace,” he bowed his head and then took his leave.

Once the door shut behind him, Elia let out a breath.

“Well,” Jaime spoke, walking closer to Elia. “That was an interesting turn of events,” he joked.

And for the first time in a long time, Elia laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---
> 
> i promise magic is coming! we just gotta get through this political shit first, lol. 
> 
> elia can't focus on the strange magic that came to her because she got all these men (namely robert) annoying her about some "but where's my right to my wife?" and elia's like "sir...i was almost murdered, i don't want to rule, i wanna deal with my trauma, but if i left the throne to your bitchasses, y'all would burn the country down'.
> 
> thank y'all for your reviews! let me know if you like this chapter or if you guys have any suggestions! i do take them into consideration!


	5. arrivals

Elia stood at the docks of Blackwater Bay, waiting in the winds as two ships were coming to King’s Landing. Two ships each containing a pregnant woman. She was hoping her good mother arrived first, as she did not want to face Lyanna just yet. Just two days after Ned rode away from the capital to find his sister, a raven arrived from Oberyn. 

_Doran had recalled me from my banishment in Essos to free you, but I see that you have freed yourself, sweet sister, and made yourself a Queen as you broke your chains. I have found the Lady Lyanna and she is well off in her pregnancy. I expect the babe by the next moon. We are currently on the ship, Sandy Coast, to you._

_Lia...the Lady Lyanna claims she and the silver prick had married before a weirwood tree. She weaves a tale of prophecy and polygamy and dragons. Tell me the Prince did not do this for the prophecy that drove Aerys mad? If I see him, I shall run my dagger through his cock._

_I see you have climbed a Mountain. Dorne sings songs of you, of Nymerelia, a cautionary tale of attempting to take the sun that will leave you burned. I am proud. I will see you in a fortnight._

_Your brother, Oberyn._

Elia immediately had her fastest riders catch up to Lord Stark to recall him back; his sister was coming to King’s Landing. She pleaded with Lords Stark and Arryn to keep Lord Baratheon away from the docks, as his presence would stop any answers they would try to get from Lyanna. 

They were able to convince Robert that he needed to ride to his brother, Stannis, and bid way to lift the siege of Storm’s Ending. They told Robert that Lyanna’s ship wouldn’t come for another moon. They needed Robert far, far away. 

Though, he didn’t go alone. 

Elia commanded some of Varys’s birds to go with, and some birds of Elia’s went too.

Elia knew, living in Dorne, that pleased men reveal secrets. Many a woman took a man to bed in order to please him to a point where he would give up his secrets. Knowing Robert’s predilection for whores, Elia sent some of the whores that she secretly sponsored when they had babes in the orphanage with him. It’s not that Elia didn’t trust Varys, she _could_ not trust Varys. She has seen his eyes and saw the plotting behind his irises. She sent her own small group of spy women in order to make sure what Varys reported was truth, and of what was hidden from her.

Jaime, dutiful as ever, stood just behind Elia’s elbow, close enough where he could whisper the arrivals of Lords Stark and Arryn. They were by themselves, the four of them. The few Dornish soldiers that lived returned to King’s Landing. The ones that could stand and were healthy enough, Elia requested that they stand as guards in and around Blackwater Bay, so that they could all have privacy. 

A breeze startled Elia as a ship appeared in the distance. It was too far away to see what standard it bore, but just as soon as the small blip of the ship appeared, another ship appeared from behind a cliff. As the bow of the ship came closer, Elia could see it was the Targaryen standard. She let out a sigh of relief. Rhaella. And Viserys. Her hands painfully knitted together as she watched the ship anchor itself and a small carriage boat met the large ship in the bay. She could see the silver head of Rhaella and Viserys walk into the small boat, along with a woman holding a small bundle in her arms. 

Elia could not stop herself, the first sense of family had finally arrived. She jumped into the bay. The warm water reached her ankles and she walked closer until the water reached her waist. “Rhaella!” She shouted as she saw her good mother’s face. 

Rhaella sat up at the voice of her good daughter and smiled sadly. Her cheeks and eyes glistened as tears fell from them. 

“Lia!” Viserys shouted. He turned to his mother and she nodded. Viserys launched himself off of the small boat, into water that was taller than him, and using the swimming skills that Elia taught him, he swam to her. 

Elia lifted Viserys into her arms, hugging him tightly, not caring about appearance. Her wonderful little good brother that she cared almost like her own until she had her own, was finally in her arms. “Let me look upon you,” she pushed his wet white hair away from his face. “My Viserys. I missed you,” she kissed his cheeks. 

“I missed you too, Elia,” the small boy’s violet eyes filled with tears as he tried to keep them in. He buried his face in her chest, squeezing her tightly. “Rhae? Egg?” He mumbled.

“Safe, my little one, safe,” she told him. “In the nursery. Look who else is here?” Elia smiled as she moved Viserys slightly. 

Viserys’s eyes widened. “Ser Jaime!” Again, he looked into the eyes of a mother figure for permission and after Elia smiled and nodded, he swam until he could walk to hug a brave knight.

Jaime was often left to either guard Rhaella’s rooms as Aerys took her, or to watch over the children in the nursery. Insulting jobs, Aerys had once said. Jaime, having his brother Tyrion just close to Viserys’s age, was a fine playmate for Viserys. He allowed himself to be the mean robber or what was needed, as Viserys was the brave knight that saved Rhaenys. As such, Jaime also had a connection with each of the Targaryen children. 

Elia did not move from her position in the waist deep water. As the small boat reached her, she laughed as Rhaella also jumped from the boat. Though, much more gracefully than Viserys did. “Rhaella,” she gasped as her good mother hugged her.

“Elia,” Rhaella hugged her tightly, rubbing Elia’s hair. “I thought you and the children dead. I am so---” she choked out a sob. “I am so happy to see you live, daughter of my heart,” she pulled away and much like Elia did to Viserys, Rhaella pushed some of the wayward strands of hair away from Elia’s face. “And now look at you…” her violet eyes looked up to the small circlet on her head. “Queen.” Her eyes grew sad. “My son…?”

Elia looked down, shaking her head. “We do not have word yet if he lives. Robert claims he slew him, but many claimed I was dead. I will not believe the ghost of a usurper’s whispers. Rhaegar will come, either dead, or in the flesh,” she shook her head. She peeked her head to the wet nurse who held a bundle. “Your babe?” She asked impatiently. 

Rhaella smiled brightly, looking to the wet nurse. “My Daenerys, Stormborn, I have added,” she laughed. “For the mighty storm that she decided to be born in,” she nodded to the wetnurse, who slightly tilted her body, allowing Elia a look. 

Elia gasped. “She is the image of you, Rhaella.”

“Thank the gods,” Rhaella laughed.

“And the birth?” Elia asked, knowing Rhaella’s difficulty not just in fertility, but in the child bed as well.

Rhaella’s smile fell. “Hard. There were times I thought I would die. Thankfully we docked at Dragonstone in time for the birth. We shall speak on this more in private,” her eyes looked upon the men who watched them. “Come now, daughter. Let us change from these wet clothes. We need to stand united, for an irrational wolf comes soon,” she turned her head to see the Sandy Coast in the far distance. 

~*~*~*~

Elia sighed as again she walked to Blackwater Bay. Though this time, she did not wait by the docks; she waited at the stone steps. “I grow tired of being at this bay. If I never come here again, it shall be too soon.”

Jaime chuckled. “Come now, your Grace. Surely you will be at this dock many times over in the future.” 

Elia rolled her eyes, as she felt Rhaella link arms with her. 

Elia wore her large triple dragon crown, needing to show the Lady Lyanna that she was Queen.

By the time the royal party arrived at the bay, the Sandy Coast was already anchored. A carriage boat once again came towards the royal dock. Elia’s breath hitched as she saw her brother. ...And Lyanna. Lyanna did not look as she expected. She was pale, though part of it could be because of her fear. Her long black hair was tied back, her wild gray eyes looked at Elia, then cast down immediately, in shame. Lyanna shook her head and looked back up, her eyes scanning the royal retinue. Her eyes lit up as she saw her own brother, then tears filled her eyes. Lyanna looked down again, hands hugging her large belly. 

Elia took in a breath as she saw the curve of the young girl’s body. She watched as the boat docked, and was surprised when Oberyn helped Lyanna out of the boat. Elia glared as she saw Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent leave the boat as well. As Arthur’s eyes met Elia’s, he looked away in shame and regret. 

“Your Grace,” Oberyn’s familiar Dornish voice brought a smile to Elia’s face. He bowed before her, taking her hand and laying a kiss on it. 

“Brother,” Elia grinned. She slapped his hand and brought him close for a tight hug. “I have missed you,” she whispered in his ear, eyes sharply on the Girl Wolf behind her brother’s back. 

“And I, you,” Oberyn smoothed her hair down, mindful of her crown. He pulled back slightly and stared at the impressive crown. “A Queen, a true Dornish Queen. _The Mother Rhoyne blesses you,_ ” he spoke in Rhoynish. “ _You couldn’t have added Dornish or Martell elements to the crown?_ ” He jested.

Elia laughed. “ _I hadn’t the time. I stole this one,_ ” she tapped one of the dragons on her head. “ _From the crown room,_ ” she smiled. “ _But Mother Rhoyne has blessed me with more than a crown, brother,_ ” Elia gave him a speculative look. “ _Did you bring the tomes I have asked for?_ ” She continued their conversation in Rhoynish. 

“ _Yes, I did. I brought an Orphan of the Greenblood as well, though I know not why. The Mother Rhoyne has spoken to me, commanding this of me,_ ” Oberyn shook his head as if he was in disbelief. 

“ _Mother Rhoyne is speaking to us...we must listen,”_ Elia nodded. She shook her head, brushing away her thoughts. “Lady Stark,” she refused to call her with the Targaryen last name. Not until she heard the story in full.

“Your Grace,” Lyanna’s voice shook as she shakily curtsied.

Elia shook her head. “I will not bid a fully pregnant woman to curtsey to me, please stand,” she commanded.

Lyanna’s tears fell from her eyes. “Your Grace, I am so, so sorry--” she stopped abruptly as Elia held her hand up in the air.

“The time for explanations will come later, not now,” Elia raised an eyebrow. “Your brother,” she gestured to Ned who stood in the distance behind her.

Lyanna’s lip shook. “Ned,” she breathed. She looked to Elia for permission, knowing her position. After Elia nodded, she walked over to her brother. As his arms came around her, she sobbed into his chest. “Ned, I am so so sorry.”

Ned pursed his lips as he held his sister. It felt bittersweet. He was furious at her for lying, but was just glad she was alive. 

“Where are Father and Brandon?” Lyanna’s question chilled the blood of all who heard it.

Elia’s head whipped to her brother’s. “ _You did not tell her?_ ” She exclaimed. 

Oberyn shook his head. _“Her health with this pregnancy is ever delicate. More so than your pregnancies were. We risked the babe coming early if she knew,_ ” he admitted. 

Elia sighed deeply. She looked to Ned and shook her head, commanding him silently to not speak a word of their fates.

Ned nodded. “I am so glad you’re back, Lya,” he avoided her question.

Elia paused as Ned called his sister by a familiar name. She laughed unamusedly. _Of course Rhaegar would choose two women with the nickname Lia/Lya; easy to call both ‘wives’ by the same name,_ she thought darkly. She straightened her spine. “Come, let us adjourn inside. It is terribly windy out here.”

~*~*~*~

“How is her health, Oberyn, truly?” Elia asked in her solar, surrounded by her brother, Jaime, Ned, and Rhaella. 

Oberyn popped an orange slice in his mouth. “The King of Prophecies did not have the Lady Lyanna in a proper condition to grow a babe in her belly. Lia, you know the tower of Joy is empty of anything needed for housing, let alone as a makeshift healing place. There is nothing of life surrounding the tower. She only had one common woman attending to her, making her bland foods. Lyanna is too small for the progression of her pregnancy,” he shook his head in disgust. “I care not for the wolf girl, for she has usurped her duties and climbed over bodies to have her King, but even I would make sure a pregnant woman was cared for properly.”

Elia laid her hand on her brow and rubbed. The last thing she wanted to do was care for the woman who decided it was fine to abscond with her husband, but she did not want to be cruel. The babe in Lyanna’s stomach was an innocent, regardless of what its sires did. “We must make sure she is attended to and in health. As well as make sure she does not give birth too early,” she said.

Rhaella nodded her agreement. “We must not stress her. Her health is ever delicate as it is, any woman who has experienced pregnancy can see that. If she finds out her father and brother have died, and that...Rhaegar is presumed dead, she will break waters early and we may lose both her and the babe,” she spoke with experience. “I dare say…” she took in a deep breath. “She looks worse than you did in both pregnancies, Elia.”

Elia nodded. “I could see that. It takes her all of her strength to stand,” she shook her head. 

Ned listened and watched as the room showed care towards his sister that he did not expect they would. He cleared his throat. “Why?” He questioned. “My sister ran away with your husband, your Grace. If we are to believe Benjen, she left willingly. Why do you show care to her?” 

Elia sighed and swallowed deeply. “I’ll not have it said that I am a cruel woman or a cruel Queen,” she told him. “Your sister…” she shook her head. “Though a woman by society’s standards, is still a child with a child’s mind. If she was truly a woman, she would have seen the hypocrisy in her choice of leaving Robert for Rhaegar. Old enough to know she was wrong, young enough to fall for the flowery words of a man years older than her,” she mused. “But that babe is innocent. And I dare say Lyanna was living in a dream world; running away with a Prince, having a secret love affair. It is a tale told to many a lowborn girl aspiring to be highborn,” she said. “But once the babe quickened in her and Rhaegar left her to the tower, she has now come to realize that her world is true, and the fantasy world she lived in was a farce. Though guilty in running with Rhaegar, she is innocent in having the mindset of a child.

Elia’s eyes hardened. “Though that does not mean I forgive her or will be her friend. Women and girls all across Westeros and beyond do their duty with no choice,” she looked out of the window. “Rhaella was forced to marry her brother at three and ten, she did her duty. I was called to marry the Crown Prince by a mad King when I wanted nothing more to stay in my homeland, but I did my duty. Your own lady wife, Lord Stark,” she turned to meet his gray eyes. “Betrothed to a man, then once he was murdered, married his younger brother; she. did. her. duty. Your sister think she more privileged than us? Many of us did not want our fate that was chosen for us, but we did it because we must. We took what came our way and tried to find the small tendrils of happiness that we could catch,” she shook her head. “We, as women, have all had loves we wished we could have chosen, but we did our duty. Your sister did not. The realm is already furious at her. Her own homeland will throw her out when the truth is revealed. Any punishment of my own will break her already fragile mind and body. And I will not have that on my shoulders, not with everything else I carry on them,” Elia took a gulp of the wine at her desk. 

Ned took her words into his mind, nodding. He made the right choice in swearing fealty to Queen Elia, he thought. Robert would not have been so kind. Nor would Aerys, had he lived. Or Lord Tywin if he took the throne. No. Queen Elia was the best choice as monarch. He vocalized his thoughts. “Thank you, your Grace,” he added. 

“What shall we do of the missive Lord Benjen said regaling the tale of prophecy as the reason Rhaegar and Lyanna absconded?” Rhaella asked the question no one wanted to.

Elia’s shoulders fell and her head dropped back. _I just want to be with my babes,_ she thought to herself. _I do not want to deal with all this. I hope Rhaegar is alive, for he if he is, when he returns, I will throw this kingdom and take my babes to Dorne for a well deserved break from the strain of ruling._ “We shall speak to Lady Lyanna,” she finally said. “Only Lord Ned and I shall be in there. Ned because I believe she will tell her brother the truth of it, and I because...as a woman, as a wife,” she sighed. “As someone who knows of Rhaegar’s obsession with prophecies...I need to know what he told her. But as Queen, I need to know as well so I can know how to resolve this matter with Lord Robert,” she admitted. 

~*~*~*~

Elia sent away all but her brother, bidding Jaime to watch the door. 

Jaime’s eyes held a bit of hurt in them, but he straightened his spine as he did his duty. 

“Lia?” Oberyn asked. 

Elia collapsed at her desk, her head falling in her arms. “I am so tired, Oby. Elia of Dorne is tired. But...this, this being that is in me; the being that killed the Mountain. That being seeks power. That being,” she shook her head. “Calls to the water,” she looked out of the window, looking at the waters that were near. “This water is shit,” she snorted. “This being in me calls to the waters of the Rhoyne.” 

  
Oberyn watched his sister carefully. “What happened, Elia?”

Elia took in a shuddering breath and told her brother of the force that came over her, of the voice that she heard whilst she was being attacked. 

Once she finished, the room was silent save for the crackling of the small fireplace and their breathing. 

“Di superi, Mater Rhoyne locutus sum vobis _,_ ” Oberyn spoke in the tongue of the Rhoynish once again. _(_ _Gods above, Mother Rhoyne spoke to you.)_ His eyes were wide.

“Etiam, frater,” Elia confirmed. “Et locutus est ad me in sanguinem. Hac ego sum expertus fuerat,” she admitted. _(Yes, brother. She spoke to the blood in me. I feel this power that I have not felt before.)_

“Sister _,_ ” Oberyn reached to his neck and removed a large necklace that he had on. He slid it over to his sister and opened the locket. Glowing blue water was in a small vial inside the large pendant. “Rhoyne est aquam flumini,” he told her. “Quid tibi aquae stillam?” He uncorked the vial and held it out to her. _(Sister. This is water from the river Rhoyne. What does the water whisper to you?)_

Elia’s eyes locked onto the glowing blue water as soon as she caught glimpse of it. Her soul lurched in excitement. The water called to her, she knew it. With still hands, she reached for the vial and held it in her hands. She stared in the vial, swirling the blue water around. _You call to me, water of the Rhoyne,_ she thought. _What do you command of me?_ Elia blinked as she heard a voice in her head, a familiar one. A voice that saved her life. 

_Take the water and taste it,_ a whisper came across her ears.

Eyes wide, Elia placed her index finger at the opening of the vial and upturned it. Her skin shuddered as the water connected with it. She took her index finger to her lips and rubbed it over them, like a balm. She suckled on her finger before licking her lips. Her head fell back. Visions played across her mind's eye.

_A fierce, tall woman, who looked much like her, stood at the bow of a ship. Her face stern as she looked at the waters ahead of her. Many people behind her bowed in reverence. Nymeria._

-

_A crowd of people with markings on their face with large barrels around them. A large hole was in the ground. Glowing blue water flowed from the barrels as they were emptied into the hole, a makeshift lake._

_-_

_Olive skinned, tan skinned, and dark skinned people stood around the lake. Holding hands as they encircled the lake. Lorenza stood in the glowing blue water, a babe in her arms. “Rhoyne mater misereatur," she spoke in the ancient Rhoynish tongue. “Pro petere auxilium, ad sanitatem aquae filia mea, tuus et filia. I docuit eam in via tua. Haec est aqua pueri, fortiter. Obsecro tegeret quiete curantes puer tua praesentia!" She dunked Elia in the glowing blue waters, chills coming across her body as the Orphans of the Greenblood sang._ (Gracious Mother Rhonye. I ask for your healing waters to help my daughter, your daughter. I have taught her the ways of yours. She is your water child, through and through. Please cover my child with your healing presence.)

\- 

_Elia smiled as she sat in her mother’s lap. They sat on a small bench in front of a glowing blue lake._

_“Show me, my sweetling,” Lorenza pulled her daughter’s hair back._

_Elia nodded and waved all of her fingers toward her in a fanning motion. A small wave appeared in the blue lake and started moving towards the two Princesses of Dorne. She giggled as she made the water touch her mother’s ankles. She spun her index finger and watched as a small water spout reached up, spinning higher and higher until it was in front of the young girl’s face._

_“Eius artes sunt altum, usque ad eam atatem, Gratua tua," a dark skinned Orphan stood alongside the two Princesses. “Nemo facere possit, invitis parentibus, qui fuerunt ante eam aetatem. Rhoyne est vere mater et filia tua, beati. Elia habet donum. A potentia non vidi in millenia. Liceat hanc facultatem in flore, Gratia tua. El electi sunt,” he bowed to her as he took his leave._ (Her skills are profound, even for her age, your Grace. None of us Orphans were able to do that at her age. Mother Rhoyne has blessed your daughter truly. Elia has a gift. A power we have not seen in millenia. Allow this ability to flower in her, your Grace. She has been chosen.)

Elia came back to her body and stared at her brother, both of their eyes wide.

“Elia…” Oberyn breathed. “Your eyes glowed blue once you tasted the water.” 

“Do you have more of this water, Oberyn?” She asked.

Oberyn nodded. “The Orphans demanded to bring caskets of it on the ship.”

Elia breathed in deeply, looking at the glowing vial in her hand. “What games are the Gods playing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--
> 
> so i chose latin for the rhoynish language. i know dorne is inspired by spanish, mediterranean, and desi culture but i also want to give them a language that even us in the modern day consider ancient. 
> 
> we're getting into the ~magic~, lol. i'm hoping to find a good balance between the political plotline and the magical plotline. 
> 
> thank you so much for all of the feedback! :'3
> 
> i love that a lot of you are enjoying this and commenting! it gives me so much enthusiasm to write more!
> 
> this is the fastest i have ever written and posted.
> 
> enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think!


	6. confrontation

A sennight after the occurrence in her solar, Elia still had not spoken to Lyanna. She did not want to, but also she had to address her people. It made for a nice distraction. Some of the buildings that were left vacant were made into small healing rooms while others were made into temporary housing for the commoners until their own houses were clear of debris, blood, and rebel soldiers. Elia herself helped to treat some of the injured; her mother had shown her how to stitch up a wound, clean blood, make poultices, and bandage wounds. Oberyn, with his knowledge of potions and his maester studies at the Citadel, made quick use of the herbs around and made healing potions for the public. 

Ned and Jon Arryn even assisted, tending to their men who decided to remain by the city gates. Most of them were recalled back to their home states, but a few loyal bannermen remained with their liege lords.

The Black Cells were getting full of criminals, rapists, and beaters as Elia sent many men who decided to take advantage of the war to commit crimes. 

The people repaid the Crown’s kindness by pleading to the High Septon to send their messages to the Gods to keep Elia as their Queen. No one in the city knew Lyanna Stark was in the Red Keep; most wanted to deny that Rhaegar and Lyanna existed, not wanting to be reminded of the reasons for the war. 

Soon enough, the city returned to almost normalcy. People were still injured, but no one was suffering. Oberyn’s ships brought food for the people of King’s Landing and they were well fed. Broken buildings were becoming reconstructed. 

“Say what you want about the Mad King,” Oberyn had told his sister as they looked over the multiple plans for rebuilding. “But I thank all the Gods that his madness allowed him to be frugal. The Crown has never been more wealthy.” 

Elia still did not have a coronation. She wanted to wait until they had confirmation of Rhaegar’s death. Ravens came from many high houses, some declaring their written fealty to her and awaiting their orders to march to swear their fealty to her in person. Some, writing that they would not declare any sort of fealty to her until the rebellion came to an end. Because in their eyes, it wasn’t over. 

But as things returned to normal, now Elia had no excuse to avoid Lyanna. She held her hands together at the front of her body, her thumbs twirling as she stood in front of Ned Stark’s door. 

“He’s not sentient, you know,” Jaime whispered in her ear. “You need to knock to announce your presence.”

Elia turned to Jaime. “I--” she shook her head.

“Elia,” Jaime grabbed her arm, taking her to the shadows silently. Thankfully the halls were clear from Varys’s birds. Elia was slowly but surely adding more and more whores as her own birds and they were outnumbering the birds of Varys.

It was unbecoming to be so familiar with her as she was his Queen, but Elia and Jaime had since agreed that, in private, they would forgo their titles. They were the only two in the whole of Westeros who knew just what the other had gone through. All were sent away, save for Elia and Jaime as Aerys’s hostages. Jaime understood Elia’s moments of ferocity, moments of melancholy, moments that people around her could not figure out. Jaime knew her change of moods, because they were his own. As Jaime guarded Elia’s chambers, he knew of her nightmares, for he had the same ones. 

They knew each other. They knew of the Old Jaime and Elia, and of the new Jaime and Elia they had to become. They knew why these new versions of themselves had to surface where others knew not. Elia trusted Jaime, and he in turn trusted her. Many of the council around them discouraged this friendship because of Jaime’s Lannister last name and his relation to the man who ordered Elia and her babes’s deaths. But Elia knew that Jaime was not his father’s son. Jaime was Joanna’s son. 

“Elia,” Jaime repeated again, gently shaking her arm to get her out of the mindset she was in. “You must,” he told her. “You must find out.”

Elia looked up at her golden guardian with tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to,” she admitted, shaking her head. 

Jaime sighed and looked around before taking Elia in his arms. It was awkward because of his armor in the way, but he wanted to comfort her. “I know you don’t want to,” he told her, speaking over the top of her head. “Elia of Dorne, Elia the wife, Elia the woman does not want to hear this. But Elia the Queen must. Elia the Queen needs to find out the reasoning and heal this broken country because one half of the reason it is broken is sitting in this Keep,” he rubbed her arm. “This is not fair to you, I know. But this is your boon to deal with. You are the only one left alive that has the power,” he murmured against her head. 

Elia shook her head in his chest. His smooth cold armor cooled her warm skin. “I feel as if I am two persons. Elia the Queen and Elia of Dorne,” she admitted. “I don’t want to lose Elia of Dorne.”

Jaime laughed, startling Elia. She pursed her lips.

“I’m sorry, Elia,” Jaime tried to contain his laughter at her expression of displeasure. He cleared his throat. “I just think it’s comical how you think you will lose Elia of Dorne. She is still here.  _ You  _ are still here,” he reaffirmed. “It was Elia of Dorne who jumped into Blackwater Bay to hug her goodbrother. It was Elia of Dorne who decided the matters of the royals would be resolved only  _ after _ the people of King’s Landing were treated after the war. It was Elia of Dorne who gave Lyanna such kindness in the face of adversity in giving her great chambers, a midwife, and a maester,” he listed off. He placed his hands on her shoulders and moved her away from his chest in order to face her directly. “It is also Elia of Dorne who cries in her chambers at night, feeling the weight of it all on her shoulders. It is Jaime of Casterly Rock who hears the cries of Elia of Dorne,” he told her.

Elia’s eyes welled with tears. “Sleep is so hard,” she whimpered. “Nightmares...they invade my mind.”

“Share in your grief with me. For I am the only other person in the world who shares the horrors your eyes have seen,” Jaime’s hand held her face as his thumb caressed the apple of her cheek. “I have nightmares too,” he admitted. “I stay in and protect you, I train all day, in order to exhaust myself so I can sleep dreamlessly. You are not alone, Elia. It is not a shame for you to feel heavy. But do not feel it alone.”

“My lord Husband was supposed to shoulder my pain with me but he instead chose to leave me for another,” Elia turned bitter. “And now he is missing or dead and I am left with shouldering Lyanna’s pain and grief as that child in her belly is so closely tied to me as my children are its siblings,” she shook her head. 

“Give me your pain, Elia. I can share your burden,” Jaime told her. 

Elia again shook her head, though more fervently this time. “I cannot ask that of you. You have seen the same horrors I have seen.”

Jaime lifted Elia’s chin slightly. “Mine eyes and my head have seen the same horrors, but my heart has not felt the pain that yours has.”

Emerald green eyes met onyx black as they looked deeply into each other, both overcome with emotions of  _ relief. _ Of knowing that someone else is now here for you, to console you, and to support you. 

Voices were heard echoing through the hall as Jaime and Elia broke apart suddenly. 

Elia quickly grabbed Jaime’s hand and squeezed it slightly as she nodded in gratitude. 

~*~*~*~

Elia and Ned knocked on Lyanna’s door. After they heard confirmation of their allowance in her chambers, they entered her room.

“Your Grace,” Lyanna struggled to stand where she laid in her large bed. She wore a simple shift that was unbuttoned slightly at the top. She was pale, though her natural skin color, she was pale with the sheen of illness. Her large belly was evident and her legs shook as she tried to stand. 

Elia put her hand up. “Please, you are in no capacity to stand and I will not make you,” she told the young girl. 

Lyanna’s gray eyes blinked as she nodded and slowly sat back on the bed. She grabbed the blankets and threw them back over her legs. She cleared her throat and looked to Ned, her eyes wide. She looked back to Elia. “H-how may I help you, your Grace?” She stuttered. 

Elia sighed, grabbing a chair and sitting down in it. “Let us not play the jester, Lady Lyanna. We are here for an explanation. Elia and Ned deserve a reason as to why you committed the actions that you did. As your actions directly impacted our families. Queen Elia of the Seven Kingdoms, titles, titles,” she waved her hand, annoyed at the long titles that the monarch of Westeros has. “And Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, deserve a reason as to why our Kingdoms have been torn apart by war by your omission of the events.”

“And we are here to receive your explanation, Lya,” Ned softened the blow that he knew his sister would feel by calling her by her beloved nickname. 

“I--” Lyanna took in a shuddering breath. She knew this time would come. Queen Elia had been gracious enough to allow Lyanna some time to get settled in King’s Landing and to attend to the babe in her belly. She did not want to speak of what happened with her and Rhaegar. In the moment, and in her head, it sounded beautiful. Like a song that would be told for centuries to come. But she knew that out loud, it would sound like words of madness. She nodded. 

Elia saw the young girl struggling to breath as her chest heaved with anxiety. She almost pitied her, but didn’t. Where was Lyanna’s pity for Elia whilst she rode their shared husband in Elia’s homeland? Still, it wouldn’t do to have the young girl shaking from nerves. They’d never get the story out from her. “Would you like me to call your maester to offer you a calming drought, should you need it?” She suggested.

The raven haired woman shook her head. “I, I need to feel this,” she scratched at her fingertips as she moved uncomfortably, feeling the Queen’s gaze on her. 

“When did it start?” Ned began. He was never one for beating around the bush. His sister never did either. But now...this new Lyanna was different. Ned knew that the Lyanna he once knew was gone. It was just now up to them to find out who this new Lyanna is. 

“Harrenhal,” Elia offered, sipping on a goblet of water that was left there by servants for the Queen and Lord.

Lyanna blanched at the mention of the tourney that started it all. “Yes, and no,” she admitted. “Rhae--the Princ--the King,” she quickly corrected herself. “The King crowned me, but he only meant to recognize my actions at Harrenhal.”

Elia stifled the eye roll that she so desperately wanted to display. She knew this already. 

Ned furrowed his brow. “What actions, Lyanna?”

“It’s as I have told you, Lord Stark,” Elia raised a glass before pointing it towards Lyanna. “Your sister, the woman your eyes are upon now, is the Knight of the Laughing Tree.”

The Northman shook his head. “I thought you were jesting, your Grace.” 

Elia raised an eyebrow at Ned, a smirk on her face. “Surely you know by now, Lord Stark, that I do not fucking jest,” she joked, using Robert Baratheon’s former words.

Ned chuckled warmly as he and the Queen shared smiles. 

Lyanna watched as her brother and the wife of her lover shared a familiar smile. It made her stomach knot. She knew she should not be feeling possessive over her brother, considering she stole the Queen’s husband from her, but she was still a simple minded young woman. She looked down. “Aye,” she confirmed in her Northern brogue. “Though as I said, it is not what people have made it to be. He only meant to recognize me in a small way, because King Aerys was asking for the Knight’s head,” she shook her head.

Ned did the same. He ran his hand down his face. “How did we get from recognizing you for your actions, to you absconding with him, breaking your marriage betrothal pact, allegedly marrying the Crown Prince, and now carrying his child? Not to mention, you absconding to the homeland of the woman you betrayed,” he gestured to Elia.

Lyanna shook her head. “It happened quickly, yet so slow,” she looked down in shame, staring at an open stitch in her blanket. “He wrote to me, praising me for my actions at Harrenhal and that his crowning wasn’t meant to be anything untoward. He wrote about my bravery and cunning,” she dared a small smile as her eyes shone with the memory of love. “I wrote that I was not as brave as I seemed as I could not even be brave enough to tell Lord Robert that I did not wish to wed him,” she explained sheepishly. “It started slowly. With no inklings of what was to come...it was only when I mentioned the magic of the Old Gods, did the conversation change.”

Ned’s eyes widened. “Lyanna, you didn’t?” He shook his head. “That is our family’s…” his eyes moved to Elia. “You told him about--” he couldn’t bear to say the words. His mother drilled it into his brain to never speak of it, even to your own family members. The fact that Lyanna not only told someone, but told someone who does not follow the faith of the Old Gods felt like a further betrayal from Lyanna. 

Lyanna’s eyes welled with tears. “He spoke of a beautiful prophecy. Of a Prince who was promised, your son,” she looked up at Elia. “He spoke of magic returning and in the midst of it all, I,” she sighed. “I told him of our family’s magic,” she admitted, not meeting her brother’s eyes.

Elia’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing into the yellow mantilla covering her head.  _ The Starks have magic? As the Mother Rhoyne awakens a magic within myself? This cannot be a coincidence,  _ she thought to herself.

Ned blanched. He knew Elia kept to the New Gods and discussion of magic was considered blasphemous in the sight of the Seven. “Your Grace--” he tried to explain.

Elia raised her hand, cutting him off. “I hope you think of me better than what your thoughts are coming up with. I was raised in Dorne, where many religions are practiced. Even a variation of the practice of the Old Gods survives there. I am not one to judge. This does not sound like folly to me,” she admitted, revealing that she believed Lyanna about the magic, but not giving away her own magical secret. “And Rhaegar, the damned fool, lost himself in the prophecies once he saw that blasted comet,” she cursed, turning her head to look at the blue sky from the window in Lyanna’s room. 

“It was only when…” Lyanna sucked in a breath. “Only when Grand Maester Pycelle told Rhaegar that you could not live past another birth did he speak of another song…” she closed her eyes. 

Elia shook her head. “The song of Ice and Fire.” Her eyes hardened at the fact that Rhaegar gave this information of her so called barrenness to someone she didn’t know.  _ Rhaegar gives my secrets away without my consent.  _

Lyanna’s eyes opened and stared at Elia in shock. “Yes. He told you of it?”

Elia pursed her lips, contemplating her words. “Only after Aegon was born and the maesters decreed,” she gave into her desire to roll her eyes this time. “That I was barren, did he start musing of this Song,” she told her. 

  
“What did he say about it?” Lyanna’s eyes were wide, crazed with curiosity. She leaned forward slightly in her response.

Elia narrowed her eyes at Lyanna’s eagerness. “I do not believe you are in a place to demand answers from me, Lady Lyanna. Do not forget your place. I am still your Queen and our husband’s first wife,” she hissed.

Ned swiveled his head to Elia. “You would keep their so-called marriage?”

Elia sighed, standing up and placing her goblet on the table. The water of the bay was calling to her. She stood by the window, watching the movement of the bay. “They were married,” her throat choked at the words. “By the standards of the Old Gods, they are wed. If I refuse to acknowledge the marriage as true, I refuse to acknowledge the marriages of thousands and thousands of Northerners who marry by the Old Gods,” she explained. “I don’t think I have to explain why that would be bad for the realm,” she turned to look at Ned who looked bemused, as if the thought never occurred to him. “I cannot involve the High Septon in this because who is he, someone who is not familiar with the Old Gods, to meddle in the affairs of a religion not known to him?” She asked rhetorically. “As a woman, and Rhaegar’s true wife, I want to disregard this fallacy of a marriage,” she ignored Lyanna’s wince. “But as a Queen trying to splinter together a broken country, I cannot. Not without creating yet another war that our citizens would die for. Again,” she raised her eyebrow at the young girl who had the intelligence to look down in shame. “My husband, stupid in his physical actions, is smart in mind. He knew how to find the perfect opportunity to make both marriages valid though polygamy is forbbiden,” she spoke through clenched teeth. 

“I am sor--”

Elia cut off Lyanna’s attempted apology with a sharp hand. “Do not lie to me. You are not sorry. I see the lovesick emotions in your eyes. You love the fool of a husband we now share. You love what he has presented to you, but you do not know him. Not as you say you do,” she informed her. “You’ve known him for one year and a handful of months. I’ve known him for my entire life, and I knew him fully once we were wed. We grew our knowledge, and what I thought was love, with another. I know him through his rage, in his sadness, his ever present melancholy. I know his nightmares, his dreams, his struggles, and his shortcomings,” she listed. “You only see him through a girl’s eyes; a Prince coming with whispers of magic, promising love if she bore his child. Promising that everything would turn out alright in the end,” she glared at Lyanna. “You love a man with a mind that prophecy has consumed, much like the Mad King. His words are not his own, his words are desperate with the pressure of this so-called prophecy. You know Rhaegar of prophecy, you do not know Rhaegar the man. Do not apologize to me when you are not apologetic for your actions. You are only apologetic of the feelings you have brought in others through your actions,” she finished. 

Lyanna’s cheeks were stained with tears, the Queen’s words slashing at her already tattered heart. She nodded.

“Now, please continue your tale,” Elia finally sat back down. She held her hands together, trying to stop them from shaking in her rage. 

Lyanna blinked, feeling as she had been slapped from the Queen’s words. “He spoke of the pact of Ice and Fire and that it was about us. We were supposed to...to do this,” she admitted. “I agreed. I told him that the child must come through me if I was placed in his path.”

Ned stood up abruptly, his chair falling loudly behind him with a crash. He ran his fingers through his long hair. “If you speak of the magic of the Old Gods, why did you not consult with them? Why did you not beseech their council?”

Lyanna let out a sob. “I think they have left me, Ned,” she told him. “I have tried to consult with them, with the trees, but they do not respond!” She exclaimed. “Since I began responding to Rhaegar’s letters, I have heard nothing.”

“And did you not take that to be a sign, Lyanna? Our Gods would never leave us. We are stronger in the North, aye, but even I hear the Gods in this capital,” Ned turned to her, eyes wild. Eyes of a wolf.

_ The rage of a quiet wolf does bite more, _ Elia mused as she watched the young girl cry from her brother’s words. 

“I took the Gods’ silence as confirmation that my actions must be their bidding,” Lyanna explained through sniffles.

Ned shook his head. “You never tended to the Gods as Mother and Father wanted you to,” his voice deepened as his mind was lost to memories. “They begged you to take to the weirwoods, to practice. And you chose to wield a sword and engage in combat. What is it that Mother always told you?”

Lyanna sucked in a breath. “Men wield the sword as the Woman wields her magic,” she recounted. “But I wanted both, Ned. I wanted both,” she cried.

“If you truly wanted both, you could have split your time. You thought you knew all that the Gods had to teach you, but you do not know,” Ned sighed and walked to his sister’s bed, holding her hand in his. “I know we doted on you, perhaps too much in hindsight. But we did not jest when we told you that you contained the most advanced magic out of all of us. And you took that in meaning that you no longer needed to appease our Gods any longer,” he shook his head. 

“I thought what we were doing was right!” Lyanna exclaimed. “I-I still do,” she admitted quietly. 

Elia’s eyes widened. “You believe that this,” she gestured to the young girl’s belly. “Your babe, your marriage, your betrayal to the Crown, your family, and a High House is right? That this war…” she shook her head. “That this war was worth it?”  _ That the deaths of your father and brother were worth it? _ She added silently, for they still did not tell Lyanna of their fates.

Lyanna’s eyes tightened. The famed She-Wolf of Winterfell was here. “I carry in my belly, the third head of the dragon. The Visenya to your Rhaenys and Aegon. They will save us from the Long Night,” her eyes shone with a haze that spoke of her imagination.

Elia stiffened as she heard Rhaegar’s words leave Lyanna’s lips. “You are gone to his prophecies too,” she shook her head. 

Lyanna curled her lip, shaking her head violently. “Though the Gods left me, I had one vision by the weirwood of which we were wed. A vision of nothing but darkness taking over these lands and these...creatures of pure white walking through the darkness and consuming everything in its path. A wall of ice stopped them in their tracks. Then...light; fire and water worked together; the water and cold working together to freeze them and the fire melting them, killing them,” her eyes were glazed over. “Three bright figures stood together, and one in the middle, was the brightest of them all. A roar, many roars screeched from behind them. Dragons. Come to aid in our quest to rid the world of darkness. That is why I trust Rhaegar in the matter of prophecy. Because I saw what’s to come,” she pleaded with the two in the room. 

The room was silent. Ned breathed in deeply. Elia’s body grew goosebumps as Lyanna recalled her vision. Something pricked at the top of her head as a chill came down her body. 

_ Take to the water. _

Elia’s head tilted slightly as she heard the whisper. She noticed Ned and Lyanna do the same. 

_ Take to the water. _

Elia blinked and licked her lips. Her chest was burning. She needed to say these words. “Take to the water,” she spoke aloud.

Ned’s eyes widened as he turned to Elia. “Take to the weirwood,” he repeated the words he spoke in his own head.

Lyanna nodded, tears again falling from her face. This time she wore a smile. “The Gods may have left me, but they come to you,” she looked between Elia and Ned. “I beseech you, heed their words. Let them show you the message that I think they are calling you for. Let my actions not have been in vain,” she looked down, scratching at her fingertips once again. 

Elia and Ned looked towards one another, wondering what in the Seven Hells, Rhoynish Hells, and Old Hells was coming for them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--
> 
> ooo we're getting into the magic a bit!
> 
> i'm still trying to find a good balance between the ~magic~ and the politics of it all.
> 
> let me know what you guys think!!


	7. gods

Under the cover of nightfall, four people galloped slowly on their horses. One wore silver armor that glistened in the moonlight, with a white cape billowing behind him. One wore looser garments, the color of burnt orange; a tunic with beautiful patterns and linen pants in the same color that flowed against the wind. The last male wore all black and gray; trousers made of black, feet covered in large boots, and a loose gray doublet. The final person, and only woman, wore a dress as she rode astride on her steed. She wore a light dress, red in color. Her veil that sat on the top of her head billowed much like the knight’s cape as they rode against the wind of the night.

As Elia rode on her horse, following her brother on his own steed, she thought about her brother’s actions when she told him what the whispers said to her and Ned.

_ “By the Mother Rhoyne,” Oberyn’s eyes were wide. _

_ Elia licked her lips, tasting the wine she had consumed after her talk with Lyanna. She poured herself another glass, watching her brother carefully. “What, brother?” She asked. _

_ Oberyn shook his head. “The Orphan of the Greenblood that I brought to you,” he said. “I know you have not met her yet, but when we arrived to King’s Landing, she requested to ride with me somewhere. She told me she felt the presence of the Mother Rhoyne, faint, but here. We rode not long, but came across a woodland. We took to foot as our horses could not fit in the crowded woods. As we walked in the shadow of the night, our eyes found something glowing,” he sighed deeply. “We walked into a small clearing. There was a gentle pond, almost empty of water, save for a few drops of water. _

_ ‘Water of the Rhoyne’, the Orphan told me. I did not question how. The Orphan said that the barrels of the river water we took from Mother’s solar will find a home in this pond. To make a true body of water of the Rhoyne.” _

_ Elia looked up to her standing brother, in shock. She shook her head. “Wha--what does this mean?” _

_ Oberyn turned to her. “I am not finished, sister. Right next to the small pond, something else glowed. It was a weirwood tree, face carved into its trunk, and tears of red streaming down its body.” _

Her brother’s last words brought a chill over Elia. This could not be coincidence anymore. Drops of the water of the Rhoyne in an empty pond waiting to be filled once more, at the base of a weirwood tree where it is thought there are none this far south. 

Elia rode with her brother, Jaime, and Ned Stark alongside her on their own horses as she galloped towards the hidden woods near King’s Landing. Their party was small, just the four of them, as they worked in secret. Oberyn led the way as he knew the path. 

“We must leave our horses here,” he told the group as they rode to a stop. “They will not fit through here. We walk for the rest,” he dismounted quickly and helped his sister off of her horse. 

“How do we know this is true?” Jaime asked. He was just recently informed, with much reluctance and protesting from Oberyn, about the secrets Elia had with her water magic, and the revelation Lyanna told them about the Starks’s magic of their own. Though a man who does not care for any faith,  _ “My faith lies with you, Elia,” _ he had told her. He was the only Queensguard who was confided in this secret. He was the only Queensguard left. 

“I feel the calling, the water senses my presence,” Elia told him as she gently wrapped her shawl closer to her body. The wind picked up, chilling her slightly. 

Ned nodded. “The wind,” he pointed, seeing the leaves and lower branches of the many trees dance all around them. “The wind is the calling of the Old Gods.”

Oberyn led the way once again, his hand holding his sister’s. Ned followed closely behind as Jaime, in his duty as a Queensguard, kept up the rear for any intruders of their spiritual voyage. 

The three that had never laid eyes on the pond gasped as they saw the glowing blue waters. The reflection of the water bounced off the slight glow of the red tears of the weirwood tree, joining together to make a faint haze of purple come across where the tears met the waters. The waters sounded like a waterfall, gushing in power, but the water barely moved. As Elia walked closer, though, the water began to ebb and flow, backwards and forwards gently. 

_ Tassssste. _

The party looked around, trying to see where the whisper came from. They all heard it; not just Elia and Ned as before. 

_ Taste.  _

_ Blood. Water. Ice. Fire. Taste.  _ The whisper turned from sounding as if it were coming from one entity, but slowly started to sound like a gathering of multiple voices.

“Taste what?” Elia was only one brave enough to respond to the voices. 

_ Eliaaaaa.  _

The woman in question shivered as the chorus of voices hissed her name.

_ Eliaaaaa. Taste the blood. _

“What blood?” Elia spun around to face the men near her.

Ned cleared his throat. He pointed to the weirwood. “Up North, it is said the red tears of the weirwood is blood of the fallen, blood of our ancestors. But I have tasted the tears of the weirwood; it does not taste like blood.”

Oberyn’s brow furrowed. “What does it taste like then?”

Ned shook his head. “Like nothing. It once tasted like weirwood berries, but those are rare to find. Only a true weirwood blessed by the Gods contains berries; even our large tree in the Godswood of Winterfell does not birth them.”

_ Eliaaaa. Eddaaaard. Taaaaste. _

Elia blinked as she looked at her Northern friend. 

Ned offered his arm out to her, and the two walked around the small curve of the pond, wary of their surroundings. 

Elia stood before the tree before a strong force of wind pushed her to her knees. “Oof,” she said as she collapsed.

“Your Grace,” Ned kneeled to help her up.

Elia waved him off. “I’m fine,” she turned and held a hand up to her brother and Jaime who were about to charge forward. “It seems as if your Gods wanted me to kneel, and I shall listen to their request,” she gave Ned a weak smile. She was supposed to be a brave Queen, but all she felt in her heart was fear...or was that anticipation? “What is the most respectful way to taste the tree?”

Ned shrugged. “There is no proper way. You just reach out,” he leaned forward and his index and thumb collected some of the thick red liquid that fell from the tree. He showed Elia his fingers, shining with the tree’s juice.

“I can see why some of the Northerners believe it to be blood,” Elia shivered. She was reminded of the bloodshed the night she killed the Mountain.

Ned smiled slightly as he turned away from Elia in respect as he suckled his fingers. He coughed violently.

“Ned?” Elia placed her hand on his back. 

Ned shook his head, staring at the weirwood with wide eyes. “It cannot be,” he whispered. He craned his neck up, trying to look at the red leaves of the tree. “There are no berries here, yet I taste the weirwood berry in its juice,” he admitted.

Elia blinked. “I’ll take that as a good sign, then?” She reached forward and watched as her nimble fingers gathered the liquid. Her hands slightly shook as she brought her hand close to her face. She shut her eyes in anticipation. Upon her tongue tasting her fingers, she immediately heaved and coughed. “This is not the juice of a berry, this is the taste of blood!” She exclaimed.

“What?” Ned was confused. “No--” he shook his head and he grabbed another taste. “Your Grace, I still only taste the juice of a weirwood berry. Prince Oberyn, Ser Jaime, have a taste.”

The two named men turned and gave each other a wary look. They each took a step back.

“If Elia says it tastes of blood, I am not sure I would want that on my tongue,” Jaime smirked. 

Oberyn scoffed. “Ser Jaime the Brave, are you scared? The man who slew an army to save his Queen scared of either blood or berries?” He goaded the Queensguard, for he did not want to taste the weirwood either, so it would be nice as a challenge for the men. After all, Oberyn was thankful to the Lannister, last name forgotten, as he saved Elia and Rhaenys and Aegon. Jaime betrayed his own father to help save his sister. Oberyn would make sure Jaime would be protected and rewarded for his bravery. 

Jaime let out a slight chuckle, seeing the challenge for what it was. “Prince Oberyn, I don’t see you running to taste the weirwood either.”

Oberyn shrugged. “Together?” He offered.

At Jaime’s nod, the two of them walked to the weirwood and each grabbed a taste of the juice.

Ned and Elia looked up expectantly at them. “Well?” They said in near perfect unison. 

Jaime and Oberyn looked at each other. 

Jaime shook his head. 

“It tastes as what Ned said before; it tastes of nothing,” Oberyn admitted.

Elia’s brow furrowed. “That can’t be right.” 

_ Blood.  _

The party of four bristled as they heard the whispers again. 

Elia growled slightly, her viper temper getting to her. “That is it,” she removed the small mantilla that covered her head and shoulders. She turned her body slightly as the pond was right beside her. “Spirits of the Rhoyne, I implore you to tell me what messages the Gods of the North have to say. I cannot understand them as I understand you. Please entreat me with what they want.” She dipped her hand into the glowing blue water and felt her spirit leap at the connection.

_ “Elia, my child. In time I will explain why I have come to you now. But right now, you must get your answer. Shed your blood in this pond, and only the blood in the river will be allowed to see it. Shed your blood on the weirwood and you will get your vision.” _ The water sang to her. 

“Only my blood?” She asked.

_ “If you are the only one to see the vision, yes. But if others wish to see it, their blood will need to be fed to the water and to the earth.” _

“I will do as you and the Old Gods command,” Elia bowed her head and removed her hand from the water. As if on instinct, she spread the remnants of the water on her lips as she licked them, tasting the sweet water. She turned to the men who stared at her in awe. “What is the matter?”

“Your Grace,” Ned cleared his throat. “Your eyes glowed blue.”

Elia blinked. “Yes,” she said. “My brother said that happened,” she looked up at Oberyn. She shook her head. “Never mind that. The spirits of the Rhoyne have commanded we shed blood. A part of the river, a part for the weirwood. Both the Gods and the Spirits command this,” she told them.

“For what?” Oberyn asked. “I’d like to know what I am getting in return for my blood.”

Elia rolled her eyes at her defensive brother. “Blood in the river so that only we can lay eyes on it, blood on the weirwood so that we can see the vision they have for us,” she explained what the water sang to her. The men still stared at her in disbelief. She sighed. “I see I shall have to start this endeavour,” she reached into her dress and pulled out a dagger. She sliced her palm, watching the crimson blood immediately start to drip down her hand. She ignored the protests of the men around her as she stretched her body slightly and allowed drops of her blood to fall in the river. 

As her blood dropped in the river, a hiss could be heard as steam gently rose from the spot where it fell. She sat back on her haunches and then smeared her palm on the weirwood, wincing slightly as she felt the ridges in her open wound. She then watched, in shock, as the tree seemed to absorb her blood, making it disappear; as if she never smeared her palm on the tree. 

She blinked as she stared at her still bleeding palm. Her spirit was screaming at her to take action. She looked at the pond next to her and dipped her hand in the water and let her hand move through it. When she brought her hand back out of the water, her wound was gone. As if it never existed. She smiled at the grace of her Mother Rhoyne. Again, she rubbed her wet fingers against her lips. “Thank you, Mother Rhoyne,” she said. 

“Well?” Elia stared at the three men. “What are you waiting for?” 

The three men jumped into action, following what Elia did. Each blinked in surprise when their blood disappeared on the weirwood tree, and their wounds healed from the waters of the Rhoyne pond. 

They sat and waited for the vision they were promised to receive. The four looked to each other in confusion.

Suddenly, the wind picked up, though not in their small circle. It was as if there was a bubble covering the weirwood, the pond, and the four bodies in the clearing. They could see the branches of other trees swinging violently and the screams of the wind howling. 

“The Old Gods are here,” Ned observed. 

  
Elia looked to the pond. The water seemed to glow brighter as ripples moved through it. Her chest felt so warm, so tight but in the best way. Her body felt as if it was tingling all over, her head rolling back in pleasure as she felt the caress of the spirits of the water. “Mmm,” she moaned. “The Spirits of the Rhoyne are here. Mother Rhoyne is waiting for us.” Her eyes closed in happiness. 

_ Take to the water, my child.  _

Elia’s eyes opened as she heard a voice in her head. Looking upon the men, she could tell they didn’t hear it. “The water?” She said aloud. 

_ Water. Looking glass.  _

Elia let out a breath. “What must I do?”

_ Listen to your spirit. It will lead the way.  _

Elia leaned over the pond slightly. She did not know what to do so she closed her eyes and allowed her body to do the work her mind could not make her do. She hovered her hands over the water and closed her eyes. She began humming to herself, an unknown tune to everyone and to her.  _ “Mater Rhoyne, peto pro tua erat gubernata. Dico vobis auxilium petere. Ego petere auxilium tuum. Aperi mihi speculum, et ea quae mihi opus est nosse ad hoc tempus current. Ostende mihi quid est veritas,” _ she chanted.  _ (Mother Rhoyne, I ask for your guidance. I ask for your assistance. I ask for your help. Open the looking glass to me, show me what I need to know at this current time. Show me what is the truth.) _

Elia stood, eyes still closed as she felt a presence come over her. She took a step into the pond, falling into it as it had no ledge. She was in the water now, and though the water was glowing blue, as she looked up to the surface of the water; it was transparent. She could see her brother, Ned, and Jaime all scrambling to pull her out of the water. She absentmindedly kicked her legs up, smiling as she felt the most pleasure surrounded by the water. Her head crested the surface as she smiled at the men. “Come, this will be the only way to see.”

“But what of our breathing?” Jaime jested.

Elia smirked. “The Mother Rhoyne will sustain us.” She dipped her head back under the water. “Dearest Mother, we are ready to receive the messages you and the Old Gods have for us.” She swam around gently, feeling the caress of the water kiss her skin and feel like a second skin to her. The water moved around her as the rest of her party walked into the water.

As Elia kicked her feet lazily, she watched as the men’s eyes widened in surprise as their breathing was sustained in the water. Suddenly a coldness took over Elia’s body. She was cold, ice cold. She could feel painful prickling at the tips of her fingers and working up her body. She placed her hand on her chest, feeling her heartbeat slow down. The water around her began to freeze, and she lost sight of the men.  _ What is this? _ She demanded. 

_ The future, _ the whispers of many spoke together.  _ This is what’s to come in your lifetime. The darkness will come, the cold will return. The night will come again. _

_ The long night. _

Elia was surprised to hear Ned’s voice in her head. She supposed that the Spirits and the Old Gods wanted to make sure they were connected.

_ Yes, Eddard.  _ This time the voices were more in a Northern brogue. His Gods acknowledged him. 

_ Wait, _ Oberyn interjected.  _ In my explorations in Essos, I’ve heard stories similar to the Northern story of the Long Night. Each country; Moraq, Volantis, Qarth, Ny Sar, Yi Ti; they all have the same story, but with influences of their cultures. Each story shared these commonalities; Creatures of white, of dead, and of blue, rising up and consuming all light and all of humanity. Then one who brings the Light rises up and battles their Leader. Through their sacrifice, the Light is returned to all lands.  _

_ Correct, child.  _ A distinctive Dornish party spoke. Elia’s heart sputtered as she recognized the voices of her mother and father in the chorus.  _ You have studied well.  _

The voices of the Spirits of the Rhoyne and the Old Gods joined together again.  _ Cultures change, but the legend remains. Much of the tale has been lost to time. Another part lives on; a joining of three on a beast from the east assists the Lightbringer. Magic awakens again, forgotten practices return from the shadows. Covering the lands in protection and in battle. Water and ice and fire come together; flooding and freezing and burning. The Lightbringer meant to face the magician who made it all come to be.  _

_ When is this to come?  _ Ned asked.

_ In your time,  _ the voices spoke cryptically.  _ It has begun not long ago. But it will not happen for many years. But it will be in your time.  _

_ Why speak so cryptically? Why can you not tell us so we may prepare?  _ Jaime spoke up for the first time. 

_ Ahh,  _ the voices hummed.  _ Jaime Lannister. We know of you, though you are not of our blood and magic. The sun smiles on you for your bravery. We know not when, only what is. What we can say is to prepare.  _

_ How did this come to be?  _ Elia asked.

_ The Darkness has slept, defeated from last time. But the presence of Lightbringer awakens him. One may not exist without the other. When one awakens, the other does too. A pact was broken; Lightbringer is here. The Darkness rises. _

_ The pact of ice and fire,  _ Ned spoke fearfully.

_ Yes, child. The pact was not to bring together, but to stay apart. The reuniting of ice and fire awakens the magic in both blood; bringing forth Lightbringer and awakening the Darkness.  _

Elia had a sudden realization.  _ Oh Gods, the babe in Lyanna’s belly. Lightbringer. A child of ice and fire.  _

_ The song, the pact of ice and fire is meant to be a warning. But the words have been lost to time. Now, for your ancestors’ folly, prophecies have been changed; the meaning confused. What was meant to be a warning was taken as a prophecy of what to be. And in following the prophecy, the warning was not heeded. Lightbringer comes again and his soul half; Darkness, comes with him.  _

A force pushes the four up, cresting the surface of the water as they all breathed in. They stared at each other in shock. 

"What does this mean?" Jaime verbalized the question no one wanted to ask. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that i kept you guys waiting! i struggled really bad with this chapter plus my personal life got in the way. i'm back in the saddle though!
> 
> so i know the words from the old gods and the spirits of the rhoyne may be confusing, but it will all play out. ;)
> 
> i'm taking a different perspective of the 'prophecy' of azor ahai and everything, and making sure to tie it with the magic i'm building. 
> 
> please let me know what you think! thank you so so much for reading! see you in the next one!


	8. proposals

Elia sat in her solar, the rim of her goblet at her lip. She stared into space as she waited for her brother and Ned Stark to join her. Jaime was already at the door, doing his duty as her Queensguard. Rumors were already swirling in the Red Keep as the four of them kept having meetings. 

“Does this mean Rhaegar was right to fall into his prophecies?” Jaime dared asked.

Elia blinked, slowly turning her head to face him. She took in a deep breath. “It means Rhaegar was a fool to believe he could decipher the prophecy. In his search of the prophecy, he misinterpreted it and instead brought forth the Darkness,” she shook her head. “All this war and suffering and absconding with Lyanna...for nothing. He instead not only splintered these Seven Kingdoms, but now he’s doomed our lives.”

“Targaryens and their pride,” the blonde man jested, trying to relieve Elia of some stress.

Elia smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Unfortunately I am a Targaryen, Ser Jaime.”

Jaime’s eyes shined with mirth. “By marriage. By birth and blood, you are still a Martell.”

“Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken,” Oberyn spoke as he walked in the room. He smiled as he saw his sister. “Jaime,” he nodded to the guard. “Sister,” he walked to her and kissed her hand. “Ned is looking over his sister. He won’t be joining us.”

Elia sighed. “He is having a hard time realizing that his brother and father have died for nothing and his sister’s son is meant to live a life of hardship and sacrifice.”

“I’ve been reading many tomes,” Oberyn said, taking a seat at the chair in front of Elia’s desk. “Trying to make more sense of it and seeing what magic we can unlock.” 

“There’s something to say about the North and Dorne containing ancient magic and none of the other Kingdoms having none of that ancient magic,” Jaime left his place by the door and took the seat next to the Dornishman. 

Elia hummed to herself slightly. “The North has the blood of the First Men, and Dorne has the blood of the Rhoynish. Though some of our native people have branched out into other Kingdoms, both of our respective areas keep to ourselves and choose to marry within our borders. Our magic has stayed within,” she mused.

Jaime nodded. “There’s that, but also the North keeps to their Old Gods and their ancient traditions. Where you in Dorne kept to your Rhoynish roots and continued the practice of your water Gods. The Westerlands, the Reach, Storm’s End, the Vale, the Riverlands; we have no ancient magic to speak of. We see nothing but power in our traditions, not tales of magic,” he observed.

“And what of the Iron Islands?” Elia posed her question. “They have their Drowned Gods.”

Jaime shook his head. “What Gods would allow themselves to be drowned?” He mused back. “They take to the water, but the true power with water is in the Rhoynish blood.”

Oberyn stared at Jaime with new eyes. “A Lannister you may be, but you think differently from your family.”

Jaime bristled. “King’s Landing has changed me,” he said. He looked up to Elia, giving her a knowing look. “It’s changed many of us.”

Elia nodded, looking down. “None of us are left as who we are.”

“Who is none of us?” Oberyn asked, stealing his sister’s goblet and taking large sips of her wine. “You and Jaime are the only ones left who have survived the madness of the Mad King and his Red Keep. Pycelle,” he spit at the name. “The flamemakers, they are all dead. You sent away all of your ladies in protection, Lia,” he looked from his sister to the other man in the room. “Ser Jaime, your brothers in the Kingsguard were all gone. You two are the only left in Westeros who know the true horrors of the last few days in the reign of the Mad King.”

Jaime and Elia looked upon one another, eyes searching for the glimmer of horror and the glimmer of guardedness they both held. Elia held her hand out towards the knight. Jaime leaned forward and grabbed her hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. Just a hand holding of comfort and of understanding. 

“Sometimes I feel like I can only trust Jaime,” Elia admitted. “He knows my mindset when I make my choices, when I’m careful with my words,” she squeezed his hand. “I never want anyone in the Kingdoms to go through what the two of us have gone through. But a selfish part of me finds comfort that I have someone who understands me fully. Someone who understands the new person I must be in order to deal with the horrors my mind knows. And I in turn can be that for him. Jaime is more than my Queensguard. He is one of the dearest friends I can have,” she looked into his emerald eyes giving him a small smile.

“I have not many friends,” Jaime admitted. “But I am glad I have your friendship, your Grace.” He gave her a proud smile back.

Elia smacked his hand. “When we are in the company of trusted people, such as my brother, you may call me by my name.” 

Oberyn looked between the two, a sly smirk on his face.

Elia turned to her brother. She narrowed her eyes. “And what is that look upon your face, dear brother? I recognize that snakey look.”

Oberyn chuckled. “If only our mothers could see you two now,” he started. “Tywin refused the match of Elia and Jaime, but the Gods and Spirits have brought you two together in a different way. Though I wish that you two did not have to go through what you did, I am glad you have each other to comfort through your nightmares. Our mothers are smiling, that in some way, the two of you have connected. A Martell and Lannister connection; a true friendship as they wanted.”

Elia smiled to herself. She felt Jaime squeeze her hand.

A knock on the door and Jaime suddenly let go of her hand.

“Come in,” Elia commanded. 

The door was opened and Ned walked through. If he was surprised by the casual setting of the room, he did not make note of it. “Your Grace, Prince Oberyn, Ser Jaime, I apologize for my tardiness,” he reached for Elia’s hand to place a kiss on it. 

Elia shook her head. “Ned, we are bonded by circumstance and tragedy. As I told my brother and Jaime, you do not need to give courtly appearances in the comfort of trusted ones. And the ones I trust are all in this room,” she told him.

Ned blinked in shock. “I--your Grace? You trust me?” 

Elia laughed. “Of course, Ned. The Spirits of the Rhoyne would not have allowed you to enter the waters if you were not trusted. You are a man of honor, the fact that you fought opposite of my husband in the war does not matter to me. You lost much and now your Gods and my Mother Rhoyne speak to us and awaken magic within us in order to help save our world. I trust you with this new development of magic in our worlds. Your Old Gods are a large part of that,” she told him. 

Ned bowed his head, hiding his surprised face. “I thank you, your Grace. I am humbled by your courtesy.” 

“Please call me Elia when we are in the comfort of trusted ones,” she repeated. “Sit, please.”

Ned grabbed the chair by the window and placed it in between Jaime and Oberyn, though a bit back as to not sit directly in between them. “Why did you request this meeting, you--Elia?” He quickly corrected himself. 

Elia sighed. “We must prepare ourselves and this Kingdom for what is to come. Though we have time as we know Lyanna’s babe is the Lightbringer of this prophecy. And I must think the Gods must not be so cruel as to allow a young child to battle a great Evil,” she offered. 

Oberyn nodded. “I do not wish this possibility on any person,” he shook his head. “But Rhaegar and Lyanna were playing with prophecies and languages of magic that they do not know of. And now, through their actions, they have brought forth the Darkness. The only light may be that this may not come to pass for another 15 years or more.”

“I hope I am not the only one to wish that it does not happen for at least two decades or more,” Jaime began. “Battle on a person of 15 namedays takes its toll and causes someone to grow far too quickly,” he spoke with a grave tone in his voice. He spoke with his experience. “Though we usually say a man is grown around his 14th nameday and a woman is grown when she flowers; we are children far longer than society would like to dictate.”

The room nodded sagely. 

“So what must we do?” Ned asked.

Elia took in a deep breath. “I do not know,” she admitted. “I do not know how to even explain it to the public. They would not believe it.”

Jaime snorted. “The Citadel and High Septon would declare war and bring forth the Faith Militant upon us. I can speak for those of us in the Kingdoms who do not believe in magic; all Kingdoms save the North and Dorne will laugh in your face.”

Ned shook his head. “And we cannot convince the High Septon, and in turn, the Faith?”

Oberyn let out a cackle. “Absolutely not. The only way we can turn them is by one of the Seven offering them a vision.”

“Can that not be a possibility?” Elia offered. “I know the North and Dorne, well at least those of us with predominantly Rhoynish blood,” she shrugged. “We follow our Gods. Though those of us in Dorne practice in secret. But there is power in the New Gods as well,” she said. “Just because they are not as ancient as our Gods, does not mean there is no power in them.” She said. “We can seek them. Ask them to give the High Septon a vision. Ask our Gods to work together with the Seven, as the Spirits of the Rhoyne and the Old Gods are.”

Jaime tilted his head. “That...is an option.”

“How would we go about it?” Ned asked. 

Elia shook her head. She stared into space as she was lost in her thoughts, listening to a voice that was not audible to the room. “Each of the Seven have a symbol dedicated to them. We can...we can--” she huffed. “There is something to the symbols, I know it. Mother Rhoyne has whispered it to me.” She turned to the Stark in the room. “Ned. We must exchange our practices. I know the Old Gods and your magic is dear to you, as Mother Rhoyne and her Spirits are dear to myself and my brother as well, but we need to exchange and educate each other of them so that we can figure out how to work together and send a vision to the Seven.”

“Aye,” Ned nodded. “If I may, I would like to send for a person from the North. Her name is Old Nan,” he chuckled. “At least that is how we know her as; we do not know her true name. She has been Old Nan since my father was a boy,” he reminisced. “As such, she is the only person in the North with as much knowledge of our magic; she taught us. Traditionally the bulk of the magic is taught to the girls and women only. Though as boys and men, we are taught some as well.”

Oberyn looked concerned. “If she is as old as you say, would it be wise to have her come down here?”

Ned smiled, making his face light up. “She has survived longer and more than I. This travel will not take her.” 

Elia smiled and nodded. “As such, we will make sure she is as comfortable as we can make her. We will retrieve her by ship. Ned, is there a wheelhouse so it may transport her to White Harbor? When she arrives in King’s Landing, we will send for her in a wheelhouse.” 

“We have a wheelhouse, though it is small and had not been used in many years,” Ned said.

“Is there a person you trust most of all in Winterfell to make these arrangements?” Elia asked. “Discretion is of the utmost importance.”

“Maester Luwin,” Ned spoke. “I would not tell him for what, as he is skeptical of Old Nan’s stories. But I can write to him about...Lyanna’s pregnancy and her desire to have Old Nan with her,” he said quietly. 

Elia raised her eyebrow. “And is that the truth, Ned?”

“Aye,” Ned confirmed. “Lyanna expressed a desire for Old Nan to assist in childbirth. Prince Oberyn,” he turned to the Dornishman. “She also expressed a wish to have you continue to be her maester. She valued your honesty and care of her on the ship,” he took in a deep breath. “I know that Lyanna has wronged you, Elia, and in turn wronged the Martells. We all know you Martells are a strong family, defending each other with fervor. But you have gained Lyanna’s trust, Oberyn. If you would accept it.”

Oberyn looked to his sister, gauging her reaction. 

Elia watched Ned carefully, the only glimpse inside her mind was the sudden gulp she took. “You and Lyanna know that my brother is not a full maester?” 

Ned nodded. “I do. But that bothers us none. Old Nan is not a maester but she has helped in childbirthing. It is known through the Seven Kingdoms of Oberyn’s vast mind,” he turned to the tanned man. “You could’ve chosen to stay and continue to collect your links, but you got bored,” Ned chuckled, startling the room who was used to the Northern man as a stern man. “You have the knowledge of child birthing. You told my sister you concocted a medicine to help Elia’s health in her second pregnancy; and the Queen lived. She lived after many said she would die. It is tough enough for a woman who is healthy to give birth twice in quick succession, Queen Elia did it with the odds against her.”

“And what do you know of child birthing, Ned?” Jaime asked him.

“Nothing, I admit, but my Lady wife spoke to me of that,” Ned said. “Before we wed, I had spoken to Catelyn as...as my brother’s betrothed,” he looked down at his mention of his brother. “She had spoken to me of her own mother’s health in the childbed. Her mother’s midwife instructed her to take time after the first child is born. She feared Brandon would want an entire pack,” he snorted. “She wanted me to speak with him for her. That is the extent of my knowledge, Ser.” He looked back to Elia, fearful of her reaction.

Elia focused on her breathing, thinking over her options. She knew her brother would go with whatever you decide. “It is true that Oberyn concocted a medicine for me whilst I was pregnant with Aegon. It was the very elixir that saved my life,” she admitted. “Though it was done in secret. Oberyn also saw to my health while I lived in Dorne. His practice on me was the reason many in the Kingdom were surprised when they saw me at my wedding, not the boney thin and frail creature they were expecting, but a strong, but small, woman. Healthy as she could be,” she looked to her brother with pride and gratefulness. “But with Pycelle’s beady eyes on my womb and everything that I consumed was monitored by Aerys, I could not take the potions my brother made for me, and my health suffered for it.” She took in a deep breath. “The child in Lyanna’s belly is one part of the prophecy that will save us. I would trust no one but my brother, and the knowledge of a wise woman in Old Nan, in your sister’s birth.” She decided.

Ned looked relieved. “Thank you, your Grace.” 

Oberyn nodded. “I shall take Lyanna under my care and collaborate with your Old Nan when she arrives. I would trust her words over other maesters. I presume Old Nan has seen many a birth.” He turned to his sister. “Elia, your mention of my care of you reminded me of a question I wished to pose to you; would you like me to continue the care I gave to you in Dorne?”

Elia’s shoulder fell in relief. “Yes, please brother. If you could? I never felt healthier than in your care.”

“Of course; anything for my sister and Queen,” Oberyn gave her a sly smirk. 

~*~*~*~

Elia met with her small council, that at this point only consisted of Jaime as Lord Commander, Varys as Master of Whispers and Oberyn as Grand Maester. 

“What a lovely party,” Jaime jested.

“Ser Jaime,” Elia reprimanded though she hid a smirk behind her goblet of water. 

“Your Grace,” Lord Varys began. “What is the reason for this meeting?”

Elia raised her eyebrow slightly. “I need a reason for updates of my Kingdoms? And the state of the Crown? Especially after wartime?” She took another sip of her goblet of water. “Never mind that,” she waved her hand. “I am here to appoint the Hand of the Queen.”

Varys’s eyes widened as he looked over to Jaime and Oberyn who also showed surprised. “You have...your Grace? Do we not wait for the appearance of King Rhaegar?” 

Oberyn let out a dry laugh. “We know not if the ass--”

Elia’s eyes sharply stared daggers into her brother’s face.

Smiling shyly, Oberyn corrected himself. “Assasination attempt by Lord Baratheon has succeed or not. Until confirmation that the King is dead or alive, Aegon is King. But seeing as Aegon is not yet one name day old, Elia must be Queen in his stead. The Queen has the authority to appoint anyone who she’d like to the Small Council.” Oberyn narrowed his eyes at the spymaster.

“Of course, His Grace is free to change the Small Council when he becomes of age, but it shall be a long, long time until such a change would occur,” Jaime pointed out. “Unless we want Balerion the cat as Hand, seeing as the young King has taken to following the black cat-dread around the nursery,” he joked. 

Elia let out a small giggle, then cleared her throat. “I assure you, Lord Varys. I do all to ensure the stability of the Crown and its people.”

Varys was placated with that, giving a fake powdered smile to the three in the room, staring at him suspiciously. 

There was a knock on the door and Arthur appeared. “Your Grace, my Prince, my Lord Commander, my Lord, the Lord Arryn as Her Grace requested.” He moved aside, allowing Jon Arryn in the room.

“Thank you, Ser Arthur,” Lord Varys spoke up after no one in the room acknowledged him.

“Yes, Ser Dayne, you may take your leave,” Elia waved him off.

“Your Grace,” Jon bowed. 

“Please Lord Arryn,” Elia gestured to the seat directly across from her. “Take your seat.”

Jon looked to the seat traditionally meant for Hand of the King. “Your Grace?”

Elia gave him a kind smile. “My Hand needs his seat. That’s if he wants the position?”

Jon blinked rapidly, clearly in shock. “Your Grace, you humble me. I...why me?”

“Sit, Lord Arryn,” Elia offered. She smiled as he did so slowly and carefully. “I admit I thought long and hard about who would be the best choice for hand. But each and every time I did so, it always came back to you,” she admitted. “Though you and I, as people, were on opposite sides of the war, it is known throughout the Seven Kingdoms of your sharp mind and your way of leadership. Though you were hesitant to see me on the throne, you still respected my position. You cared for our people; two Lords, one of the North and one of the South both sent their children to you for fostering. That says enough about you, my Lord. I have no doubts you would be a good and fair Hand,” Elia nodded. “You would council me accordly and always put the needs of the people above any self interest. You are the only man I can envision for the position.”

Jon blinked, taking in a deep breath. “Why not Jon Connington, your Grace? He was Hand after King Aerys...sent away Lord Tywin.”

Elia let out a breath through her nostrils, laughing slightly. “My Lord, it is no secret that Jon Connington holds no love for me. His one and true King is Rhaegar. I will say he is Rhaegar’s truest friend. Lord Connington would not allow me to rule in Rhaegar’s stead. I dare say he would argue to put himself as Lord Regent until Aegon would come of age. And though that may seem proper; I was not raised that way. If I may be frank, Lord Arryn?”

“Please, Queen Elia,” Jon gestured for her to speak. 

“I was raised to rule,” she admitted. “As my mother’s spare, I was taught alongside my brother Doran at her feet. While my brother was fostered in the Salt Shore, I spent many years alone with my mother. She took me to the lowest places in Dorne, to the highest of Houses not of our own. Then once my younger brother Oberyn,” she glanced at her brother with a smile on her face. “Was...temporarily banished from Dorne, I grew closer to my brother Doran and our mother, as my most admirable and fun companion was gone,” she smiled as Oberyn reached for her hand and held it. 

Elia continued. “I have been up and down King’s Landing; donating to the orphanages, sponsoring a program for many unwed mothers who were left during their birth, brutalized as men tend to take women, or who were left pregnant through their work in the brothels. I know how to rule, and I know this city,” she said confidently. “I am also willing to work with Kingdoms not known to me, such as the North, the Vale, the Riverlands. Aerys did not know much of your lands, and this country suffered for it. Jon Connington would not be so open to council from the other Kingdoms. It would be a mistake to have him sit as Lord Regent instead of myself as Queen Regent. That is why I would prefer you to be hand, Lord Arryn. You would not just tell me tales of flowers and work through troubles yourself; you would be honest and fair with me, and tell me things I need to know as Regent Ruler. That is why I am choosing you. But know this,” she held her hand up. “I am not ordering you. This is an option, Lord Arryn.”

Jon looked at a water spot on the table as he mulled over his thoughts. “May I have some time to think this through, Your Grace?”

Elia smiled. “Of course, Lord Arryn. I don’t want to pressure you, but I’d like an answer in a sennight,” she looked sheepish. “I know it seems a rush, but I need to make sure I have a strong council and I need the advice of a smart Hand.”

Jon smiled at her. “I will be sure to make you aware of my answer quickly, my Queen.”

Elia smiled brightly as the Arryn man addressed her by her title. Perhaps all would be well soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the magic usually comes easy to me but the politics do not. however!!!! i finally figured out a small council for elia and i am so so proud of it. and now i'm finding a good balance between magic and politics. 
> 
> thank you so so much for all of your reviews and love! i appreciate it more than you know. i love you all so so much! see you in the next one!


	9. crying

All was not well. As soon as Old Nan arrived in the Red Keep, Lyanna’s water broke.

While in Oberyn’s care, Lyanna flourished. She gained more weight, color returned to her skin and she was able to walk around her room with no pain. But her isolation in the Tower of Joy took a toll on her body that no amount of care could heal. 

The servants of the Red Keep ran throughout the building, grabbing towels and water for the birthing woman. Lyanna’s screams could be heard echoing out of her windows, making the citizens of King’s Landing wince as they heard it whilst they walked by amongst their day.

Elia couldn’t take it anymore. Though she had her personal feelings towards Lyanna, she could not bear to hear her in pain from Rhaegar’s folly. “Rhaella, please watch the children,” she pleaded with her good mother. “Take them to the Sept, to the Godswood, or even to the crypts with the dragon heads. I cannot have them fear Lyanna’s screams any longer.”

Rhaella, holding her daughter in her arms, nodded solemnly. “Of course I will, Elia. And what will you do?” She asked brazenly. She was one of the few people who would talk to Elia in that way since the Dornishwoman became Queen, and Elia loved her all the more for it. 

Elia took in a deep breath. “I will help Lyanna in whatever way I can,” she admitted. She nodded to her good mother and kissed Rhaenys, Aegon, and Daenerys on their heads. She took her skirts in her hands and made her way from the nursery, down to Lyanna and Ned’s quarters of the Keep. 

She saw Ned standing outside of the room, a worried expression on his face. “Ned,” she greeted him.

“Your Grace,” Ned bowed his head to her. He was puzzled as to why she was there. 

Elia hid a smile at his confused expression. “Though I may not like your sister for her actions against me and mine; I will not allow a woman in labor to go through this without support. While on Dragonstone, when I birthed Rhaenys, Rheagar held me from behind as I labored. And it helped with my strength. Sometimes the presence of another, especially someone who has been through a labor can help,” she mused. “It certainly helped my mother when my aunt held her in my birth and Oberyn’s birth.”

Ned shook his head. “Elia, I cannot ask this of you.”

Elia gave him a kind smile. “You are not asking, I am demanding.” She flinched as she heard another bloodcurdling scream. She nodded to the Northerner. She burst into the room. What she saw made her heart clench. 

Lyanna was sitting up on her bed, sweat pouring from her body, her hair drenched with it. She was screaming, and her eyes showed the exertion of her screams as they were red from popped blood vessels. Oberyn was in between her legs, trying to keep her legs apart as Lyanna fought against his strength. Old Nan was in the corner of the room, mixing steamed herbs for assistance. 

“I am here, what can I do?” Elia asked. She shook her head at the sight before her and felt her circlet shake. She wrenched it off and threw it on a side table.

Lyanna’s eyes widened at the action. “Y-your Gr--”

“No,” Elia said. “I am not here as your Queen; I am here as a woman who’s battled the childbed helping another woman in the childbed. What can I do?” She repeated, turning to Oberyn and Old Nan.

“By the Gods, please hold her hands,” Oberyn pleaded. He was in just a cream undershirt, sweating through it. “The She-Wolf beats on my head as I try to adjust the babe,” he jested.

Elia smirked as she walked over to Lyanna’s side. She put her arm around the young girl’s shoulder, her hand holding hers. “My brother is used to fists on his head, feel free to continue in your actions,” she joked. She knew Lyanna was scared through her labor, so she wanted to make it lighter for her. 

Oberyn saw that Lyanna tried to make herself more presentable for their Queen, so he decided to focus her attention back to the important matter. “Lyanna, you must keep your legs closed,” Obeyrn commanded. “If you keep them open, the babe will try to exit before we can turn them.”

“I can’t,” Lyanna grit her teeth. “It hurts so much!” 

“Drink this, my child,” Old Nan handed Lyanna a steaming cup. “This will help with the pain.”

Lyanna wrinkled her nose at the smell. “What is it?”

“Milk of the poppy, weirwood berries, Dornish blood orange, willow bark, water of the Rhoyne, and Winterherb,” Old Nan listed off. “It’s a concoction Prince Oberyn and I made through our letters,” she told the room. 

Elia could feel the tension in Lyanna’s shoulders, unwillingness through her body. “What does it do?” She asked for the young girl.

“Milk of the poppy for pain, weirwood berries and blood orange for energy as well as taste. The willow bark is a further herb for the pain. Water of the Rhoyne and Winterherb for the strength and presence of the ancestors through this birth. Drink child,” Old Nan handed the drink to Lyanna again.

Elia grabbed the drink. “I’ve had a similar concoction for my labor with Aegon,” she admitted. “It helped with my pain and my recovery. Lyanna, you must drink. They have to turn the babe in your belly and that pain is one of horrors. Drink so you can use your energy for birthing the babe instead of for the pain,” she held the cup to Lyanna’s lips and tipped it into her mouth. 

Lyanna winced as she gulped down the drink. When she looked up, she could see the relief on Oberyn and Old Nan’s faces. “Now what?” She fearfully asked. 

Lyanna’s two caretakers looked at each other gravely. 

“Lia,” Oberyn addressed his sister. “You know what we must do.”

Elia closed her eyes and she nodded her head. 

“Climb behind Lyanna,” Old Nan ordered. “Hold her to your body.”

Elia nodded, pulling her skirts up over her knees to give herself room to position herself behind Lyanna as Old Nan commanded. 

“What? What is going on?” Lyanna looked around the room seeing the fallen faces in the room.

Oberyn made eye contact with Elia.

Elia took in a deep breath. “The babe is turned in your belly, Lyanna. A babe is supposed to birth with their head first. Your child is positioned feet first. That is harmful to both the child and yourself. Tis why you are in grave pain. Your body knows it is not ready, but the child is,” she spoke with a gentle tone. As she looked at the fearful expression in her husband’s lover, her heart clenched. Lyanna was nothing more than a young girl. A young girl made to be a mother before her time. Lyanna knew nothing of birthing, of the dangers of it. “Lyanna…” Elia shook her head. “They have to turn the babe whilst in your belly.”

Lyanna cried. She shook her head vehemently. “No, no. I can birth him like this! Please, don’t do this. Do not make me suffer through more pain. Elia, please! You’re the Queen! Command them not to,” she begged, crying into the Dornishwoman’s neck. “Please. I cannot.”

“You must,” Elia told her. “You must.” She pushed her arms through Lyanna’s arms and angled them up so she held the girl’s shoulder. She began to sing softly. 

“I know this song,” Lyanna panted as she smiled slightly. “My mother sang this to me as a young girl.”

Elia gave her a sad smile. “My mother did the same. Sing with me, Lyanna.” She nodded to the others in the room as she held her tighter.

Lyanna screamed through her pain as Old Nan and Oberyn turned her babe through her belly. She tried to sing with Elia, but she instead listened to the Dornishwoman’s soothing voice. She felt Elia’s hand push her sweaty hair out of her face and she was thankful for the grace of this woman. Lyanna’s guilt only grew as Elia took care of her as the young Northern woman birthed the child of Elia’s husband. 

“Gods,” Oberyn shook his head. “Her hips are smaller than Elia’s were in birth,” he told Old Nan.

The weathered woman shook her head. “Lyanna may look like a woman grown, but her body still has not completed it’s change. She and the babe will survive this birth,” she observed. “I have seen smaller hips in labor.”

Oberyn nodded, agreeing with her assessment. “I do not think she will be able to birth again,” he admitted.

“Let us pray to all the Gods that is not the case,” Old Nan closed her eyes in a brief prayer. 

Lyanna and Elia did not hear their conversation. They were focused on their song. Lyanna placed her face in the crook of Elia’s neck as Elia leaned her head down comforting the young girl. It was an intimate embrace. Though not an embrace of lovers; this was an embrace of mothers. Mothers who have been through tragedy and pain. Mothers who have had, or are going to have, a difficult labor. 

Lyanna sniffed. She sobbed in pain. She licked her lips.  _ “High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts,” _ she sang. 

Elia swallowed deeply. The song was a new one across Westeros, and no one knew who wrote it. But Elia did. Some thought Rhaegar wrote it, and they were partly correct. Elia and Rhaegar both wrote it. They wrote it as they visited Summerhall secretly when they first married. She shook her head. She sang along with her; their voices chilling all who could hear. 

_ “And she never wanted to leave...never wanted to leave…” _

~*~*~*~

“Lyanna, Elia,” Oberyn shook the two from their ritual of singing. His Rhoynish blood sang as he heard the two sing. The Gods were appeased by their singing. He knew not why, as the songs they recited were neither Rhoynish nor Northern, but he assumed it had something to do with their voices singing. He had studied mysteries of the power of someone’s voice, especially in song. 

The two women looked up to him, their eyes glazed over.

“You were in ritual,” Old Nan told them. 

Lyanna cried, a small smile on her face. “I felt the Old Gods again,” she let out a dry laugh. “They are with me.”

Elia nodded. “The Spirits of the Rhoyne have joined us. I can feel them.” 

“I thank them for their presence,” Oberyn began. “Because we have turned the babe. Lyanna, it is time for the birthing,” he stood by the edge of the bed, softly pulling Lyanna’s legs apart. Old Nan joined him, observing as her age made her incapable of crouching as he did. 

Lyanna suddenly looked up to Elia, terror in her eyes. 

“You must,” Elia repeated. “You will,” she told her. “Your Gods are with us. My Gods are with us. We will all work together to help you birth. Tales have been told about the She-Wolf of Winterfell before Harrenhal. You are the Knight of the Laughing Tree. You carry the blood of the Old Gods in you. You can do this, Lyanna. You are a strong woman; battling in a tournament. This is another battle you must face. You can do this,” she affirmed her. 

Lyanna took in a shaky breath and nodded. She looked towards Old Nan and Oberyn. “What must I do?”

Old Nan grabbed blankets and unfolded them in her hands. “When you feel the tightening in your belly, when it contracts, you must push. Try not to overexert yourself to the point of fainting, but push as hard as you can until you get to that limit. Grab onto Queen Elia for strength if you need to.”

Lyanna nodded, her hands holding Elia’s wrists as they wrapped through her arms. 

“Begin to push when you feel the tightening,” Oberyn told her. 

Lyanna nodded, taking in a deep breath. The room was silent, save the deep breathing of the laboring mother. “Okay, I feel the tightening,” she said. 

“Push,” Old Nan commanded. 

Lyanna grabbed Elia’s wrists as she pushed. 

~*~*~*~

“One final push, Lyanna! And the babe will be out,” Oberyn said. Old Nan was squeezed next to him as she assisted with holding the baby. 

Lyanna was drenched with sweat. Elia was gritting her teeth as she tried to hold up Lyanna with her own body. 

“I can’t!” Lyanna sobbed. 

“You can,” Elia told her. “It’s just a smaller push, only the legs left. You already did the biggest pushes. Just one small push, go!” 

Lyanna grunted, her body curling as she gave one final push. She let out a cry as the babe finally left her body.

Old Nan held the babe in her arms as she wiped the blood off of it’s face. 

Lyanna laughed, looking up to Elia. “I did it!” She cheered. “I did it,” she closed her eyes in triumph, a smile on her face.

Elia gave her a sad smile. Lyanna’s exclamation only showed just how young the girl truly was. “You did, you did a great job,” she pushed Lyanna’s wet hair behind her ears. 

Lyanna opened her eyes. “Please. I want to see my Visenya.”

Elia tensed. 

Oberyn looked up, meeting his sister’s eyes as he worked to stitch the new mother up. 

Old Nan gave a disapproving look. She walked over to the side of the bed as she moved the blanket away from the babe’s face. “Meet your son, Lyanna.” 

Lyanna glanced up to Nan, horror on her face. “Son? I’m meant to have a daughter,” she shook her head. She reached up to grab her baby from Nan’s arms and removed the blanket from his body. The babe cried as he felt the cold air meet his naked body. Lyanna cried out as she saw the confirmation of her child’s gender. “What did I do wrong?” She muttered to herself. She continued to stare as the baby’s cries grew louder and louder, Lyanna doing nothing to console him.

Elia shook her head. She would not listen any further. She removed herself from Lyanna, standing at her bed. She grabbed the baby from her arms, wrapping him back up in the blankets. “You listened to a folly of a prophecy,” she told the girl. “You will hold your son, you will love him, you will be his mother. The Kingdoms have bled for his existence. I will not have you set him aside because he is not the gender you envisioned him to be.” She rocked the child in her arms. “He is of your blood. What is it that Ned told me that you Starks say?” She muttered under her breath. “Something about the pack sticking together?”

Lyanna took in a sharp breath. “When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives,” she whispered.

“Yes, that was it,” Elia nodded. “Are you to make this wolf alone? Or will you make him a part of your pack?” She raised an eyebrow as she handed the babe back to Lyanna. “Look at him,” she told the young girl. “He has your hair, your skin. I dare say he will have your eyes,” she looked at the child. “Aegon had light eyes from his birth. This babe has darkened eyes. This child is a wolf. You are his mother and a part of his pack. Do not begrudge him because of some flowery words written long before these Seven Kingdoms were made together.” 

Lyanna stared at her child, now quiet after Elia rocked him back to a state of calmness. She ran a finger down his face, smiling softly as he cooed at the touch of his mother. 

“Old Nan, Oberyn, thank you for your care,” Elia told them. “If there’s anything else needed, please let me know and I will get it to you.”

Before she walked out of the room, Lyanna called out to her. “Your Grace?” They were back to formal titles, the moment of mothering and companionship gone. 

Elia stopped in her tracks and turned around. “Yes, Lady Lyanna?”

“Thank you,” Lyanna nodded her head. “I greatly appreciate your help in my birth. It means more than you know. I know I have no right to your help as my actions have caused you grief and sorrow. But,” she shook her head. “But I am grateful that you are who you are, with the strength and resilience that your ancestors have gifted you, to be able to help a laboring mother. Thank you, my Queen,” she bowed her head slightly. 

Elia blinked as she took in Lyanna’s words. She had no response, but a nod as she left the room. 

“Is she alright?” Ned’s voice startled Elia. 

“Oh! Yes,” Elia gave him a strained smile. “You have a beautiful nephew, Ned. With the Stark look,” she told him. “Go in to see him. Your sister did fine in her labor. It was a difficult one, but she made it through. Old Nan and Oberyn made a very fine potion with ingredients of both of our ancestors of the Rhoyne and of the North, and it helped very much in her labor.” 

Ned smiled. Then he looked closer at the Queen. She was covered in sweat, clothes and hair rumpled. But she was shaking. Her hands were intertwined but she kept squeezing them, moving them around to keep still as she shook. “Are you alright, Elia?”

Elia looked up to the Northerner as he was taller than her. “Hmm? Oh, yes. Yes I’m fine,” she shook her head. “It was just a reminder of my own difficult labor with Aegon,” she lied easily. “Go Ned. Go see your pack,” she jested. 

Ned gave her a nod and opened the door. 

Elia took in a shaky breath. She leaned her head back. Exhaled. And ran. She ran up the stairs, tripping frequently as her skirts caught on the floors. She pursed her lips as tightly as she could, holding back her sobs. She was thankfully that the halls were clear, so no birds would catch wind of her actions and spread them to the Kingdoms, giving word of her weakness. She ran up to her quarters, finding Jaime at her doors. She grabbed his arm and pulled her into her rooms. She closed her door and shakily removed his armor. 

“Elia!” Jaime was startled. “What are you doing?”

“Please Jaime,” Elia pleaded with him as her shaking fingers stilled. “Please just hold me, I--I can’t. I fear I shall break. I need someone to catch me, and you are the only man I trust. Please, J-Jaime, please,” she repeated through her sobs. She was shaking uncontrollably. 

Jaime saw Elia’s face and proceeded to remove his armor, leaving him in a thin white tunic and beige breeches. He picked her up in his arms and walked over to her bed. He placed her on her soft large bed and climbed on it. He grabbed her again and placed her head on his chest. “Share your burden with me, Elia. I am here to put you back together when you break.” He held her tightly as she sobbed like a wounded animal in his arms, her throat screaming as she did. 

Elia’s fingers grabbed his tunic so tightly, her normally tan colored knuckles were a shade of pale cream. She hiccuped as the ferocity of her sobs couldn’t keep up with her breathing. She could feel Jaime’s hand rubbing her back, her hair, rocking her slightly. He held her tightly, keeping her together as he promised. After some time, Elia’s sobs turned into exhausted whimpers. “It’s a boy. She birthed a boy,” she cried. 

Jaime tensed. “He will not supersede Aegon for the throne, I swear it,” he told her.

Elia shook her head weakly. “That is not what I am worried of. The child has the Stark look, no one would dare put him before Aegon. Not with Aegon’s Targaryen looks,” she said. “Her screams,” she shuddered. “It reminded me of my labor. I-I was jealous,” she admitted. “I had no one during my labor with Aegon. She had the comfort of me holding her, a trusted caretaker from her homeland with her, and my brother caring for her and birthing her babe. I was alone with a snake of a maester Pycelle birthing my babe, screaming with no one to comfort me.” She shook her head. “How could she and Rhaegar bring forth an innocent child, only to die?” She buried her head in his chest.

“Because they thought themselves smarter than the Gods,” Jaime responded. “They thought they could decipher a prophecy long misinterpreted, after the Mad King drilled it into his son’s head before Aerys grew into his madness that their line was to carry the Prince that was Promised. They were wrong and now they have doomed this child.”

Elia sobbed. “Have they doomed Aegon and Rhaenys?” She asked. “ _ ‘A joining of three on a beast from the east assists the Lightbringer’ _ ,” she recited. “That is what they said. A beast from the east? Dragons come from the east. A joining of three? We have two. There is Aegon and Rhaenys,” she said.

“But there is no Visenya,” he told her. “Aegon and Rhaenys are safe. And the dragons are dead.”

Elia’s tears finally stopped, but she played with the ties of his tunic. “Aye, there is no Visenya,” she acquiesced. “But there is a Daenerys…” she took in a deep breath. “Tell me that the timing of these births aren’t what the prophecy foretold? Three assist the Lightbringer. The Lightbringer is born, and we have three children ready to assist him,” she concluded. 

  
“There are no dragons,” Jaime repeated, trying to reassure the woman in his arms. 

Elia shook her head. “There is magic; awakened in me, and in the North. What is there to say that the magic will not awaken and bring forth dragons?” She surmised. “If the Darkness comes again, the Others will come; the White Walkers,” she let out a shaky breath. “A dragon will help with fire. Lyanna’s babe is the ice, and my children are the water. Tell me, Jaime...tell me you do not feel the pit of rightness in your belly at this conclusion?”

Jaime sighed deeply, thinking through Elia’s summary of the prophecy, and he knew. He knew it to be true. “I do,” he admitted. “Gods, I do not want it to be true. They are all just babes,” he shook his head. “To have this on their shoulders at such an age? I cannot imagine.”

Elia let out a dry laugh. “You’re one to speak,” she snorted. “Jaime, you are seven and ten. You have too much on your shoulders at your age as well.” 

“Elia, you know my time in the Red Keep has aged me beyond my years,” the Queensguard told her. “It has aged the both of us. I fear we shall turn into stone in two years time,” he chuckled. 

Elia let out a small laugh, then sighed. “I am sorry for my...reaction, Jaime,” she reddened. She felt like a fool for crying like a girl and finding comfort in someone’s arms. 

Jaime shook his head. “Remember what I told you, Elia. Share your burdens with me. That means all of them,” he told her. “Because I know that is what you tell me when you find me after my nightmares. You have no one you trust fully here; no one that knows what you have gone through. Not Rhaella,” he listed. “She was sent away. And her horrors are of a different kind; horrors that cannot be healed without time. Not your children, they are much too young. Not your husband,” he spat out. “He betrayed you in a way I never would. I am here for you, Elia.” He looked down at her tearful face, grabbing her chin in his fingers. “I am here for you,” he whispered again. He placed a kiss on her forehead. 

And finally, they both fell asleep. 

For one night, their nightmares stayed away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides in preparations for the flames* listennnnn! i have a plan! just trust meeeeee. i know y'all hate lyanna; I DO TOO! but elia would not allow her to go through childbirth alone! not after her terrible births! this isn't elia forgiving lyanna, at all! this is something else!
> 
> please please don't be mad. trust the process. i have a plan for lyanna. don't hate me please.


	10. decisions

_ Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands, _

_ I write to you for many reasons. First, I’d like to offer you my deepest sympathies for the loss of your father. I myself lost my mother not long ago and I know the pain I feel. Though I know as ironmen, I know that you may feel a different emotion towards his passing, instead I offer your own words of your Drowned God in comfort: what is dead may never die. I truly believe that. I have studied some of your beliefs and I think it is a comfort to imagine your father pillaging and living on in the waters. We have a similar belief in my Rhonyish ancestry.  _

_ I shall get to that later. The second reason I am writing to you is because I want to make you aware of a few changes here in King’s Landing. In the absence or presumed death of my husband, King Rhaegar, our son, Aegon is now King. As he is still a young babe, I am serving as Queen Regent until he becomes of age. As Queen, I have formed my small council and want to make you aware of it.  _

_ Hand of the Queen will be Lord Jon Arryn of the Vale, Lord Commander of the Queensguard is Ser Jaime Lannister, Master of Coin is Lord Willas Tyrell of Highgarden, Master of Ships will be Lord Wyman Manderly of White Harbor, Master of Whispers will be Lord Varys, Grand Maester will be Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne temporarily until the Citadel sends us a new maester. As you can see, the position for Master of Laws is absent. I struggled with this position, I admit. I wanted to be able to tie each of the Seven Kingdoms to the small council, not just for fealty, but so that may also be a direct representative of each of the Seven Kingdoms, and come to me with any complaints, issues, or requests from each Kingdom. But that would leave one Kingdom out.  _

_ Instead, Lord Arryn and I came to a conclusion. Master of Laws will be a Tully of the Riverlands. We considered having seven Ironislanders as Representatives of the Law, living in each different Kingdom and learning about the land, and reporting back to the Master of Laws, as Master of all the Laws in the Seven Kingdoms is a grand undertaking for one person to take and we also wanted to include the Iron Islands as well. We know laws and rules vary from Kingdom to Kingdom as each one has a different culture and influences. However your...history is well known and creates doubt in me. But I am willing to give you and your countrymen a chance. I will offer this to you again, after you have proved your loyalty to the Crown and the Seven Kingdoms. I know not why I am offering you this chance, though I believe it may be due to our water connections… _

_ I know you must be looking at this message in confusion. Though in Dorne, we worship the Seven, we are an open Kingdom who allows different religions and practices. One that I myself practice is one from my Rhonyish ancestry. It has a great focus on the water and its spirits. We focus a great part of the practice in the water. I would love if you may share some of your practices if you do still practice. It’s interesting to me how such different lands have similar beliefs. If you would not like to share, I understand and do not begrudge you this decision. _

_ Please respond with your consideration of another opportunity to have Ironislanders be Representatives of Laws, and if you would be willing to share in your water secrets if I share mine.  _

_ Queen Elia Targaryen, first of her name, Regent for King Aegon, sixth of his name, Regent Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.  _

Elia handed the letter to Jon Arryn, who sat in front of her as they met in council. 

Jon nodded in approval. “It is a well written letter, Elia.”

“Thank you, Lord Arryn,” Elia smiled. She was reminded of his more formal nature when he first walked in her solar a few hours before. 

~*~*~*~

“Good morning, Lord Arryn,” Elia greeted the Valeman as he entered her solar. “Thank you for joining me this afternoon. Would you like wine? Or water?” She gestured to the silver goblets and large drink container on the table in front of her. 

“Water please, your Grace,” Jon smiled as he watched Elia pour him a drink. Robert, nor Aerys would have ever poured him his drink. “I hear you have some ideas for your Small Council as Regent?” He grabbed the goblet from her hand and sat on the plushy seat opposite her. 

“Yes, I have,” Elia smiled. “I have thought long, hard, and carefully for the Small Council. I know that we have a large undertaking before us; stitching together the wounds that this war has made in the fabric of our country,” she placed her hands on top of one another on the table. “I have made this council in mind for each of the Seven Kingdoms,” Elia squinted her eyes. “Well, most of the Seven Kingdoms, the Iron Islands will always be a testy part of our country,” she gave him a knowing look. 

Jon laughed in response as he nodded. “Yes, they never seem to be happy with any choice, don’t they?”

“No, not at all,” Elia laughed. 

“Your choices, your Grace?” Jon asked. 

“Well, currently we have you as Hand of the Queen and Jaime as Lord Commander,” Elia began. “Oberyn is only meant to be Grand Maester temporarily until the Citadel sends us a new maester; I’ve already sent the request over and I expect an answer from a raven in a sennight, or the presence of a new maester in a fortnight.”

Jon nodded. “The Citadel is rather quick when assigning maesters to high houses. I see your health is in better shape, your Grace. For all my doubts, Oberyn is a great temporary maester,” he smiled.

“Please Jon, call me Elia when it is just you and I,” Elia told him. “Oberyn took care of my health when I was in Dorne and made a concoction while he was exiled. It was only when I moved to King’s Landing and subsequently Dragonstone when my health began returning to its frailty,” she frowned. 

Jon furrowed his eyebrows. “Your Gr--Elia?”

Elia let out a sigh and shook her head. “It’s--” she pursed her lips. “Rhaella and I always suspected Pycelle of being Tywin Lannister’s puppet. And it was proven when word got to me from the smallfolk that Pycelle himself opened the gates that let Greg--the Mountain,” her eyes darkened, her back straightening as she remembered the man who almost killed her and her children. “I knew it to be true. I continued to drink Oberyn’s potion that he made for my health and Pycelle told Aerys. The King forbade me from taking it and recommended a new potion that Pycelle made. It sickened me, more so than my own illness. I felt so weak, and I lost so much weight. I was the frail Elia the Kingdom had heard about,” she scoffed. “During my births, the maester attended to me in Dragonstone...he was rough with me. I question his actions to this day, especially after seeing Lyanna’s birth,” she mused. 

“You attended Lyanna’s birth?” Jon’s jaw was slightly agape. 

“Don’t look so shocked, my Lord,” Elia laughed. 

“I--I,” Jon looked properly admonished. 

Elia gave him a smile, trying to calm his nerves. “I knew her birth would be difficult after seeing her frailness at Blackwater Bay. I knew she would need more support than Old Nan and Oberyn. Though I know Old Nan has had children, I don’t think she remembers how difficult it might have been,” she shrugged. “I wanted to offer her support, one mother to another. Especially as a mother who’s had experience with difficult labors, to a mother who was about to have a difficult labor,” she told him.

“You are very kind, Elia,” Jon smiled.

Elia shook her head. “I only did what I wished I had for myself,” she let out a breath. “Now, back to the small council,” she smiled. 

“Will you be keeping Lord Varys as Master of Whispers?” Jon asked.

“Of course I will,” Elia spoke aloud. “He has been faithful to the Crown,” She shook her head no. She slid some parchment over to the Lord of the Vale. “He has done his job dutiful and though he may have had some slips, he is a worthy member of council.” She tapped the parchment. 

Jon leaned forward to read the words. 

_ Varys will be ousted. I have implemented my own web of spiders who have already gleamed more information than the children Varys employs. I will be Master of Whispers unofficially, but I will be calling my dear friend Lady Ashara Dayne to be the mask that I cover over my own face.  _

Jon’s eyes were wide. Elia was full of surprises today. “I understand, your Grace,” he nodded, pushing the parchment back to her. “I haven’t known him long, but I dare say he has eyes even in our most private moments.”

Elia laughed, grabbing the parchment and throwing it behind her, where the fireplace was on and burning brightly. “You’re very charming, Lord Arryn,” Elia gave him a smirk, quirking her eyebrow. It was no secret all hated Varys, for he found all secrets and traded them for more valuable secrets. He needed to leave; he had an agenda, but Elia did not know what, and who the agenda served. 

“Your Master of Coin?” Jon continued. 

“I want to call on Willas Tyrell,” Elia placed her hand under her chin. “We owe the Tyrells something valuable from their unfailing,” she rolled her onyx eyes. “Support of the Crown during the war. I have heard from my brother that he has a mind for numbers as he controls the grain books, as the Tyrells call it,” she laughed. “In the Reach,” she continued.

“Your brother?” Jon asked. “I wasn’t aware Prince Doran knew Lord Willas?”

Elia laughed. “Oh no, not Doran,” she shook her head. “Oberyn. Yes, I know he injured Willas during their duel and crippled him, leading to more tension between Dorne and the Reach,” Elia waved her hand uncaringly. “But Willas holds no ill will over my brother. He knew it was a consequence of dueling and tourneys. They correspond over letters and Willas has shared in his fondness with numbers. Oberyn concurs. The Reach counts many grain and harvest yearly, any Tyrell would have to know numbers well in order to know their lands.”

Jon nodded, seeing her wisdom in the decision. “But are not the Tyrells expecting something...larger?” He hesitated. 

“Something...larger?” Elia narrowed her eyes. “As in a proposal?” She laughed and shook her head. “As far as the Kingdoms know, Aegon and Rhaenys will marry each other.”

Jon shifted uncomfortably. “And will they?”

“Of course not!” Elia smiled. “I just would rather not have a Tyrell planting a seed in any of my children’s heads, trying to bloom loyalty for someone other than their family. No, Master of Coin is a formidable position and the Tyrells shall be pleased. And if I hear anything other than their pleasure at this new higher position, then I shall lower their standing,” she took a sip of her wine.

“Unbroken you are, Elia,” Jon jested as he sipped on his water. “Master of Ships?” He asked. 

“This one...was a little more challenging,” Elia admitted. “I know the Valeryons have historically been Masters of Ships, but there has been many tensions between them and the Crown, namely Targaryens,” she bobbed her head to the side. “But...I,” she sighed. “I know there are many concessions needed to be made to the North for my good father’s actions.”

Jon tensed. “Yes,” he agreed. 

“I know Ned would never accept this position, nor does he know much about ships. So I propose House Manderly for Master of Ships,” she offered. “They have a small fleet and their castle is in White Harbor. Most larger shipmates, such as those in Storm’s End, and the Iron Islands will say their fleet is small, and it is. But they have defended both their fleet and their harbor from silversmiths year after year, and they still stand strong. I also want to expand their fleet,” she admitted.

Jon blinked. “What?”

Elia looked at him directly in his weathered blue eyes. “I want to expand the North’s fleet of ships. And Dorne’s,” she added as an afterthought. 

“Why?” He asked. 

Elia pursed her lips. “How much has Ned told you about the reason he, Jaime, my brother, and I left suddenly under the cover of night?”

Jon’s tensed shoulders relaxed slightly. “Not much, but he has said it has to do with his Old Gods, and a prophecy? We don’t have much...magic or legends in the Vale, but I do believe in his Old Gods. I do believe in the Seven as well. I believe there is something more, else how would dragons have existed? How was the wall created? I have to believe there is something more out there...a reason for all of this,” he mused introspectively. 

Elia tilted her head. “I would love to have a wonderful discussion about this more with you another time. To elaborate more on those thoughts of yours. I once had the same myself,” she admitted. 

“But what does that have to do with expanding the North’s and Dorne’s fleets?” Jon asked. 

Elia smiled. “It has everything to do with it. But in due time, I will tell you. You are my Hand, and I will keep no matters of the realm away from you,” she told him. “For now, we shall say that I offered the position to Ned and he politely declined. I then chose House Manderly to honor the North with a High seat on the council,” she summarized. 

Jon nodded in approval. “And Master of Laws?”

“That is the one I have had the most difficulty with,” Elia admitted. “I cannot find something both tying the remaining Kingdoms of Storm’s End and the Riverlands to the council, as well as a good figure to handle the laws.”

“Your goal is to include someone from each of the Kingdoms?” Jon asked.

“Yes,” Elia told him. “Not just to keep the Kingdoms tied in loyalty and supplication, but to have a representative for each Kingdom on the council. That way the Crown can respond to any complaints or issues that arise in each Kingdom. A better way to govern than just allowing the Lords to deal with it and worry about the Crown’s reaction. Each representative can have a say as well as be represented. But we only have one more seat and if I give it to one over the other, then the party without a seat will riot. I have a mind to sit neither, but if I do, both will wonder why,” she sighed. “I have no doubt House Tully will bring up the fact that though they too lifted their banners in rebellion and yet the North and the Vale are represented. And what can I say to that? And the Iron Islands?” Elia shook her head. “They are a brutal bunch and always strive to try and take over the Kingdoms,” she rolled her eyes. “Always quite failing in that regard, I might add,” she laughed. 

Jon smiled, taking her joke in jest. He paused, mulling over his thoughts. “What if we created a small council within the Master of Laws?” He offered.

Elia turned her head slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Creating and governing laws is often a big undertaking, especially as each Kingdom has their own set of unwritten laws,” Jon began. “What if we sent a representative for the Master of Laws in each Kingdom, to live in the Kingdom and observe its own laws? Then they would bring it to the Master of Laws who would then propose it to the small council?”

Elia took a sip of her goblet, swirling her wine around in her cup as she did so. “Who would be the seven representatives? And who would act as Master of Laws?”

“House Tully would be acting Master of Laws,” Jon said. “As they are an honorable sort, and it would also elevate their status as well. The representatives would be from the Iron Islands,” he hesitated slightly. 

Elia blinked. “Jon...each seven being someone from the Iron Islands? That is brazen. It is no secret that not one of the inhabitants in the Iron Islands wish to be a part of the Seven Kingdoms; they are brutal, cruel, and consistent rulebreakers,” she shook her head. “I am sorry, but I am overruling you. I cannot allow the Iron Islands such an honor when they have done nothing to deserve it.” 

Jon nodded. “They will see this exclusion of them on the council as a slight,” he pointed out.

Elia took in a deep breath. “I will write to Balon Greyjoy; I need to send my condolences for his father’s passing anyhow,” she shook her head. “I will admit to them that we had considered the Iron Islands for these representatives, but their history has stained their opportunity. I’ll tell him that I would consider the Iron Islands in due time if they can prove their loyalty to the Crown and the Seven Kingdoms that they are a part of,” her index finger traced an invisible path on her desk. “In order to sweeten him, and for my own curiosity, I will ask him about his Drowned Gods and inquire about them. They’re prideful with their Gods,” she shrugged. 

“That seems to be the best course of action, your Grace,” Jon began writing the new small council down on parchment. “When would we be making these announcements?” He asked.

“On the morrow. We shall announce each position, bar Master of Laws until we receive a raven back from the Greyjoys,” she commanded. “I don’t want word to reach them before we can inform them of our decision. That would only anger them further,” she sighed. “May you hand me parchment? I would send the letter as soon as I am finished.”

Jon handed her parchment and they both worked in silence, their quills scratching quietly over the crackles of the fire. 

“So is this our Small Council, officially?” Jon asked. 

“For now,” Elia quirked her eyebrow as she smiled. 

~*~*~*~

“Elia,” Ned approached the Queen as she sat on a leisure chair, watching her daughter play in Blackwater Bay with three of Oberyn’s bastards and Viserys. Daenerys, Aegon, and Lyanna’s unnamed child were in a small bassinet, taking in the sun. Jaime sat next to her, keeping guard but also accompanying her as a friend. 

Elia looked behind her, squinting as the sun hit her eyes. “Ned!” She smiled. She stood up and kissed both of his cheeks. She laughed at his blush. “None of that, you shy wolf. We are close kin, and our shared magic brings us closer still.”

Ned lowered his head to hide his blush further. He craned his neck slightly to see his new nephew in the bassinet with his child King, and a Princess. He blinked in surprise. “You have him in the same crib as your son and a Princess? Though he is a…” he trailed off.

“A bastard?” Elia lifted her eyebrows. 

Ned nodded slightly. 

Elia gave him a smile. She nodded her head towards the water. “There,” she pointed. “A Crown Princess and a Prince play with three bastards. In Dorne, we don’t look down on bastards,” she looked at the Stark babe in the crib. “Even a bastard of my husband’s.”

“ _ Is _ he a bastard now?” Jaime asked, not turning his head from his watch of the children in the water. 

Elia sighed. “Yes, the High Septon has declared Lyanna and Rhaegar’s so-called marriage as invalid.”

“On what grounds?” Ned was curious. He didn’t mind that his sister’s supposed marriage was considered false. 

“That I am not dead,” Elia laughed. “Although the petitions from the Warden of the North declaring that no kin of hers or anyone of the North or who follows the Old Gods gave her to him, making the marriage also invalid in sight of the Old Gods,” she gave Ned a knowing look. “With that, the High Septon was able to declare it false in both the eyes of the Old Gods and the New. So officially, your nephew is a bastard. I am sorry, Ned.”

Ned furrowed his eyebrow. “Why are you sorry, Elia?”

“Your nephew is a bastard, and your sister is now considered a loose woman,” Elia responded. “I am sorry for what you must be feeling and the words that are flying in the Kingdom about your family.”

Ned nodded. “I care not of the opinions of others, only my family and those I consider close council and friends,” he gave her a smile. 

Elia’s radiant smile blinded him. She truly was like the sun. 

Jaime noticed her smile as well and smiled slightly to himself. 

“But I know you must not have come all this way just to find out this news,” Elia raised her eyebrow. “What do you need?” She gestured for him to sit on the bench next to her, so that he wasn’t standing the whole time. 

“Jon has told me about your plan to grow the North and Dorne’s fleet?” Ned sat where she requested. 

“Yes,” she turned to him. “I have a feeling only the North and Dorne will believe the prophecy; so I want to build up our forces. The North because they’ll be the first hit, and Dorne, for evacuation purposes...if it comes to that,” she spoke softly. 

Ned nodded. “A wise plan, your Grace. And I agree with your sentiment that only the North and Dorne would believe the prophecy and the magic growing within our lands. They’re used to tales of magic and legend. How would we build the ships?”

“The North has plenty of woods, do they not?” Elia asked. 

Ned nodded. “Yes, but what shall the North get in return? You cannot expect to use our resources without the North getting something in return,” he spoke sagely.

Elia gave him a warm smile. “You sound like a Lord, Ned.”

Ned smiled sadly and lowered his head as he blushed slightly. “When Brandon was out galavanting and...meeting women as he did,” he chuckled. “My father often had me sit with him and learn from him. I learned; not as much as Brandon did, but I did learn some from my father.” 

Elia nodded. “I was born while Doran was fostering in Yronwood. I didn’t meet him until I was about four years old. I was by my mother’s side for all of it. Even as she taught Doran, because of my frailty at the time, I read many of our Dornish rulers’s books whilst also sitting by my brother and mother’s side and learning from them. It is a necessity as the spare,” she gave him a knowing look. “I want to open trade with the North,” she admitted. “We can send our sand over to help with the formation of glasshouses. Luckily for Dorne, we have unlimited amounts of it,” she smirked. “With the plans of Bran the Builder who made your Winterfell castle, maybe we can build irrigation tunnels in Dorne to better fertilize our lands. We can trade our lace, our linen, our oranges, and spices, while the North can trade their woods for ships, their weirwood berries and we can form wine for you, and plant more weirwoods in Dorne. We can build our wealth and grow foods in each other's lands. Of course the North could use more harvest for Winter is inevitably coming.”

“Elia, that is brazen,” Jaime told her. “The Crown would never allow it.”

Elia let out a laugh as she raised an eyebrow at the young Lion. 

Jaime suddenly realized his words as he reddened slightly. “Well...it works out well that Elia is effectively the Crown,” he chuckled. 

“But he has a point,” Ned spoke up. “The other Houses will see the ships up and down the coast, they will suspect something. And if they find out that the North and Dorne are trading especially after the fire and tension between our lands, they will raise their eyebrows.”

“Hmm,” Elia thought about what he said. “Perhaps as the ships leave Dorne and into empty waters, we can change the standard to a Northern banner? And the same for any Northern ships as they go into Southern waters?” 

Ned tilted his head. “That may work for a while, but eventually that will not last. What then?” 

Elia took in a deep breath as she thought. “If questions arise, I am prepared to say that Dorne and the North have entered into trade agreements in order to rectify our troubled issues. There. A solution for questions. If it comes to the point where the Kingdoms find out about the prophecy and attempt to ridicule us, we will be the only two lands to defend Westeros,” she sighed deeply. 

“I have no doubt about that, Elia,” Ned told her. “The other Kingdoms are not as open with religious beliefs as our two lands are.”

“That’s interestingly something your two lands have in common,” Jaime observed. “Among many things, I’ve realized,” he said.

Elia and Ned both looked to him with quizzical expressions on their faces. 

“Well,” Jaime began. “Besides the belief in something deeper, like your water magic, your Mother Rhoyne, and Spirits of the Rhoyne,” he nodded to Elia. “And your nature magic, your Old Gods, and your Kings of Winter protection,” he turned to Ned. “You both have a strong focus on family, and loyalty to your family and your heritage. You have a focus on allowing your women to defend themselves, Dorne more so than the North, and the women of Bear Island in the North. Both of your lands are mostly ostracized from the other Kingdoms; the North for being too conservative and Northern...whatever that means,” Jaime grimaced. “And Dorne for being too open and free and  _ too  _ Southern. Everything is done personally in both of your lands; a point of pride for the both. When a slight is taken against you, you do not send mercenaries like Westerlanders do,” he gestured to himself. “Or messengers like the Riverlanders, spies from the Reach. You handle it yourself, or with a personal touch. And the biggest?” Jaime raised his eyebrows. “No one but people from your lands can survive in your lands. You have to be born in the North to be able to withstand the North; and you have to be born in the midst of the sand and sun to be able to survive Dorne. The rest of us can survive in each other’s lands, but it would be much harder if we were to go to Dorne or the North. Overall, though you are exact opposites in weather and in geography; your two lands have more in common than any other lands in the Kingdoms.”

Elia blinked, taking in Jaime’s words.

Ned nodded his head, his head also full of the Westerlander’s words. 

~*~*~*~

Elia was in the nursery, watching her daughter Rhaenys chase Balerion around the rather large room. She held Aegon to her chest, breastfeeding him as she still had milk able to feed him with. Viserys was sitting by a nook in the window, his head on his arms as he people-watched the common folk of King’s Landing. Daenerys was fussing in her crib, her clenched fists moving in the arm. Lyanna’s still unnamed child slept peacefully. “Wylla,” she called to the wetnurse that came with Lyanna. 

“Yes, your Grace,” Wylla came into the room.    
  
“Could you please get the Queen Mother? I think her daughter wants her,” Elia smiled as she watched Daenerys become louder. 

“Of course, your Grace,” Wylla nodded her head as she took her leave.

“Viserys, are you alright?” Elia asked the young boy. She carefully moved her position to a sitting one, watching her son becoming milk drunk as he took his fill of her milk. 

“Yes,” Viserys sighed, not even turning to face his good sister. 

Elia raised an eyebrow. “Would you like to try that again?” She asked. Her eyes narrowed as the boy didn’t respond. “Come here, Vis,” she cooed, patting the open seat next to her on the small couch in the room.

Viserys sighed once again, dragging his feet as he sat in the soft space Elia indicated. 

“What’s wrong?” Elia asked once more. 

Viserys bit his lip, scratching at his thumb nail. “Imrgr,” he mumbled. 

Elia turned her ear closer. “One more time, Vissy,” she said.

Viserys let out the loudest sigh thus far. “I miss Rhaegar,” he gave Elia a fearful look. 

“And why do you seem afraid when you say that?” Elia transferred Aegon from her chest, to her shoulder, burping her son softly. 

“I know that Rhaegar did not do good when he left with Lyanna. And he hurt you, and Nys,” Viserys looked at his young niece who was now absentmindedly speaking to her cat. “And Egg,” he ran his hand down Aegon’s back. “He almost got you all hurt and I would be very hurt if you were not okay. He made a war happen,” he said. “But I miss him before the war. Before he was in his books. Before Father,” the white haired boy shuddered. “Made him stop...Rhaegar would play with me, and teach me how to sword fight. He walked me through the dragon skulls and told me the histories. He was my brother...and I miss him. But I do not want to miss him because I hate him for what he did to you,” he leaned his head on Elia’s arm, hugging her. “But he is my brother and I love him,” he admitted. 

“Oh my dear sweet boy,” Elia whispered. She placed Aegon in the small bassinet next to her and took Viserys in her lap, hugging him closely. She smoothed down his silky hair. “It is okay to love your brother. He is your family and we love our family regardless of their actions.”

“But I don’t want to betray you. Or Nys. Or Egg,” Viserys’s violet eyes peered up at Elia.

Elia shook her head. “You won’t be betraying us, love. I am sure Rhaenys and Aegon still love their father and will continue to love their father as they learn more of what he did as they get older. They will have to navigate through their hurt and love like you are now,” she rocked them both slightly, trying to calm the shaking boy down. “It is okay to love Rhaegar...and hate him. It is okay to still love him and love us. We will not resent you for that.”

Viserys sighed, but peacefully this time. “Thank you Elia. I love you,” he leaned up and kissed her cheek. “I am glad you are my sister. My older sister!” He said quickly. “I love Daenerys too!” He told her.

“I know you do,” Elia laughed. “And I love you too, Vissy,” she kissed his forehead. “And I always will. You shall always have a sister in me, no matter what.” 

Viserys gave her a bright blinding smile. 

Rhaella walked into the nursery, smiling as she saw her good daughter and son cuddling. “You wanted me?”

Elia pointed to Daenerys, not letting go of Viserys. The stormborn still fussed, but a bit more quiet as she heard her mother’s voice. “Your daughter was screaming like the storm she was born in,” she jested. “I tried to calm her, but she did not want me. And then Aegon began crying so I fed him. Daenerys saw me feed and clenched her hands towards me,” she explained.

“Oh my darling, long wanted daughter, are you hungry?” Rhaella reached into her daughter’s crib and held her in her arms. She sat next to Elia and unlatched her dress, taking her breast out to feed her child. “Does...Lyanna’s child need milk?” She nodded towards the only sleeping child in the room. “Has she named him yet?”

“Lyanna fed him earlier!” Viserys called out. “I asked her questions about the North!”

Elia smiled as she ruffled his hair slightly. “Ever the inquisitive one,” she joked. “No, she has not named him yet. She was confident that he would be a Visenya, and Viserys is already taken,” she tickled the boy in her lap, laughing as he giggled sweetly. “She says Rhaegar is not here to further name him, so she has left the decision to us. And if we cannot come up with a name, Ned is to name him,” she summarized.

“Does she want a Targaryen name for him or a Northern name?” Rhaella frowned. “A child should have a name. It is bad luck to leave a child unnamed for too long.”

“She cares not,” Elia shook her head. “She is more upset that he is not the she that Rhaegar promised her.”

Rhaella tsked. “A shame. He is a good babe. He rarely cries or fusses, does not take ill, and is a calm, curious one.” 

Elia shrugged her shoulders. “Though she left the choice to us, it is hard for me to name him. He is a good babe...but I struggle with him,” she admitted. “He is the child my husband left me for. I love children; all children. But I look at him...and I remember my pain and the near death of my children and I. And I struggle. But I don’t want to struggle. I don’t want to hold the sins of his sires to that child. He is innocent. But I cannot forget the Blackfyres...I cannot forget the pain,” she sighed. “Then I think politically and for the reign of my son. Do I allow them to grow together and form a brotherly bond? If only to subvert hatred festering in both of them and to subvert another Blackfyre Rebellion. Or do I swallow my pride and do what I would do if this were not a child of my husband’s; allow him to grow alongside his siblings like Oberyn does with his daughters?” She blinked. “It is a difficult decision.” 

Rhaella shook her head. “I do not envy you this, Elia,” with a free hand, she placed a loose tendril of her good daughter’s hair behind her ear. “But I will be here for your council.”

“What would you do, Rhaella?” Elia turned to the white haired matriarch of the House Targaryen. She looked down and saw that Viserys had fallen asleep, she smiled slightly. 

Rhaella pursed her lips, rocking back and forth as she held her daughter. She thought a bit, looking down at her child. “Does Lyanna love the child?”

“I do not know,” Elia told her. “The wetnurse tells me she rarely visits the child. Lyanna fed him today but that is the first I have heard of her doing so. Wylla spoke of Lyanna coming to the boy at night and whispering to him ‘Why are you not my Visenya? What was all this for if you were not the child of ice and fire?’”

Rhaella shook her head. “She resents that child.”

Elia sighed. “I hope she does not. A child is a blessing. That child has done nothing to her besides be a male child.” 

“Let us name the child first,” Rhaella smiled. “Then we shall determine his future.”

“And the future of his mother?” Elia raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, my wonderful good daughter,” Rhaella smirked. “That boon is your choice to make.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy friday! happy weekend!
> 
> here's the new chapter; i hope you enjoy it! i'm having so much fun replying back to your reviews and everything! 
> 
> in my quest to try this writing with no outline/bare outline, i'm just reading up on dorne and dornish theories. also coming up with some cool ideas for this fic, but not trying to be fully married to it because it can change. case in point; lyanna wasn't supposed to give birth just yet. she's supposed to give birth later when...~someone~ arrives. but the fic was like nope. baby time. so i just listened to the plot bunny instead of fighting them.
> 
> and omg so i had a dream last night...i was rhaenys, i had a brother...who was aegon (bear in mind, that while i do have siblings, i grew up as an only child but i felt SUCH a connection to my dream aegon). ANYWAY. it took place in the building of my old high school lol. so me (as rhaenys) and aegon was just chilling, going through the halls. 
> 
> then there was this new kid. ...y'all can guess where this is going...joneth snowth. but this mfer was saying his name was eegon like (eh-gon) as in copying MY brother’s name...BITCH. he was like yeah i’m ehgon, i’m from winterfell but my dad is rhaegar. 
> 
> and me (as rhaenys) and aegon’s dornish temper was like...”i KNOW this bitch ain’t in OUR small ass king’s landing PRIVATE school AND saying his name is eegon. oh nah”. me as rhaenys was just like i’m gonna ignore him but work behind the scenes and make his life a living hell and make him transfer schools (a thing that i actually did which i am not proud of) 
> 
> but aegon. oh aegon wanted to FIGHT. so aegon stopped him in between class periods and was like “why tf are you here? go away. no one wants you here” and this eegon/jon was like a cocky asshole and was like — hold up, imma type it out:
> 
> me as rhaenys: :o  
> aegon: why the fuck are you here? you’re not a child of the crown. go back to winterfell where you belong. (go back to party city where you belong! teas 😂)  
> eegon/jon: i’m our father’s son; i belong here as much as you do.   
> me as rhaenys: *steps up; stares into camera: i’m about to end this whole man’s career*: no you don’t. you’re an embarrassment to the realm. you’re the reason for a war and thousands of deaths and you weren’t even worth it because you weren’t the visenya our father wanted  
> the classmates around us: :o he wasn’t reaaaaady   
> eegon/jon: well i’m here now so you’re going to have to deal with it
> 
> then i don’t know how, but then they started fighting.
> 
> using magic, bitch.
> 
> eegon/jon was using some damn ice power, and aegon was using a fire power. and me as rhaenys was like ‘fuck this guy’ and jumped in and i used my water power against him too. we was jumping him, lmfao. everyone surrounded us and were shocked and kinda scared because they had never seen magic before. 
> 
> then i guess i had a peek of aegon’s head, and his thoughts were like ‘i don’t care that he’s my brother. he’s the reason my mother was almost killed, that she was made fun of and is still ridiculed. she was bitten’. so i guess in my dream, gregor took a chomp of elia before she was saved? idk. so aegon was like ‘imma bite him’ and then chomped ehgon/jon’s arm. because i guess?
> 
> then people took them away or they died? idk but me as rhaenys was sobbing saying that i can’t believe aegon is gone and that it wasn’t his fault. so i don’t think aegon died but was just taken away from me. and obvi we’re like super close cuz that’s my little brother and like yeah lol. then i woke up...i just wanna say i felt so damn powerful as rhaenys--OMG I JUST REALIZED THAT THIS DREAM ACTUALLY CORRELATES WITH THIS FIC OMG LMFAOOOOOO. 
> 
> so yeah...that was my dream, lol. i took that as a sign to write more and post today. so here we are! thank my subconscious for making me get off my ass and write and you guys getting this chapter today lol.


	11. return

Elia held her goblet of wine as she saw a ship carrying the Martell standard left the port of Blackwater Bay. She closed her eyes and hummed as she felt the wind come across her. The trade between the North and Dorne had begun. The ship Oberyn arrived on would meet one of the Dornish ships in deeper waters and the Dornish ship would put the large barrels of sand on the transport ship and that shp would travel up to the North. Ned devised that it would be easier, and faster, if a Northern ship and a Dornish ship met a blank standard ship in the midpoint of both lands. 

“It would cover suspicion of what we are doing, at least for a while,” Oberyn had added.

Elia was overwhelmed with everything going on in her life. She would be glad when things finally leveled out and she could just rule and raise her children, instead of dealing with the fallout of Robert’s Rebellion, as the people were tending to call it. At least the people of King’s Landing were happy with the new changes Elia brought about. The High Lords on the other hand, were annoying Elia with their demands. So she chose to ignore them. 

“Your Grace,” a voice called out to her.

Elia sighed at having her peace disrupted and turned slightly. She was surprised to see Wylla, Lyanna’s wetnurse. “Yes, Wylla? Can I help you?”

Wylla twisted at her fingers. Her hair was unsettled, strands of it out of place. Clearly caring for five children and three under the age of two wore on her. “Your Grace, you told me to call for you if I ever thought to be concerned for one of the babes…”

Elia stepped forward, trying to remain calm. “Yes? Is something the matter with the babes? Aegon? Rhaenys?” She mentioned her babes first as she was their mother. 

Wylla shook her head. “No, m’lady. It’s the new babe; Lady Stark’s child.”

Elia blinked. “Is he okay?”

Wylla nodded. “Yes, m’lady. But…” she looked down and made a fearful face.

“But what, Wylla? Is the child fine?” Elia asked, her impatience growing. 

“The babe is perfect, m’lady. He is a quiet one who does not bother much,” Wylla told her Queen. “But...the Lady Stark...she has not come to visit him except only to express her milk when it becomes too painful for her. She does not hold the child. I know the child cries out for her because when she nurses, the babe reaches out for the Lady Stark. But she does not respond. She just holds him to her breast and murmurs about…” She looked around to make sure no one was listening. “She murmurs about a Visenya…I grow concerned for the babe. A child needs a mother; or at least a kind womanly touch. He only has the kind treatment of myself, Dowager Queen Rhaella, and yourself, my Queen. And of course the other children. But we all keep ourselves away from the boy in hopes the Lady Stark mothers her child, lest we step on her motherly rights. She still has not named the poor boy,” Wylla’s eyes were filled with tears. 

Elia sighed and shook her head. “I will talk to the Lady Lyanna. A child must have a name; a child must be cared for. If she will not care for him, the mantle falls to us.” She paused as her brain worked. The political mind of hers winded with thoughts. It would be wise to have the child on her side; bonding with his siblings so that he would grow a loyalty to Aegon and therefore never try to usurp his brother. Her emotional mind criticized the cruelness of her political mind. She should not use a child in such a way...but such was the boon of being the Queen...and having a child that threatened her own son. But she would not be cruel to the innocent child. His actions were none; his parents held all of the sins of their actions. “Come now, Wylla. Let us go to the nursery.” She held her arm out to the wetnurse and walked with her through the halls inside Blackwater Bay.

As they walked into the nursery, they saw that Lyanna’s son was in his crib alone. He was whimpering softly, naked save for a cloth diaper. 

“Where are the other children?” Elia asked. If Rhaella took them, it wouldn’t be in her to leave the Stark child alone.

“The Lady Stark was nursing her child when Viserys’s maester and Rhaenys’s septa came for them. The Dowager Queen took her daughter Daenerys and Aegon with her to some fabric fittings. Queen Mother Rhaella asked the Lady Stark if she would like her son to join the other two babes to give her son new garments, but the Lady Stark simply said that she needed to express her milk,” Wylla told Elia.

Elia shook her head. “She did not even bother redressing him?” Her own motherly instincts came firing forward and she reached and held the small child in her arms. She wrapped a blanket around him, warming him up and rubbing his back. She was rewarded with the small babe’s whimpers quieting down.

Wylla shook her head. “It is as I have told you, my Queen,” she sighed. “She only comes to express her milk and that is it. She sets him down when she is done and leaves. She does not even burp the child. I have saved him from choking many times.”

Elia huffed. “That is it. I have allowed this girl to stay in my home despite her actions, despite her disrespect. Her and Rhaegar created a war for this child, and now she will not care for him?” She shook her head. “I will speak with her, Wylla. Not to worry.” Elia left the nursery, keeping the child in her arms as she walked the way to Lyanna’s quarters. 

As she walked into Lyanna’s room, not bothering to knock, she was incensed at what she saw. 

Lyanna sat at her desk, a large tome in front of her. There were other pieces of parchment on her bed, along with other tomes. The Northern woman was hunched over, writing furiously on her own parchment and muttering to herself.

Elia took in a deep breath as the fiery anger known to be associated with the Dornish flooded through her veins. She knew what those were. She recognized them as Rhaegar’s own study material of his prophecies. “Are you fucking joking, Lyanna?”

The Queen’s outburst made Lyanna jump in her seat. She looked to see Elia holding her son. “Can I help you, your Grace?” She spoke with a deadpan tone. The pale woman was paler than usual, with dark circles under her eyes. 

“You are in here, locked away for hours under  _ my  _ selfless grace and instead of caring for your son which is the only reason you are not in the Black Cells, you are here murmuring about a false prophecy?” Elia tried to keep her voice down as the child in her arms now slept. 

Lyanna shook her head. “The prophecy is not false, Elia.”

“You will refer to me as your Grace or your Queen,” Elia darkened. “You lost any of the small respect I once held for you as you have shirked your motherly responsibilities. The babe, this  _ boy _ ,” she stressed, running her hand down the back of the boy’s head. “Is proof that the prophecy is false. He is not the Visenya you wanted, and you must still mother him as you are his mother.”

Lyanna again shook her head, this time more violently. “The prophecy is not false, the Long Night  _ is  _ coming.”

“Because you and Rhaegar broke the pact of ice and fire. Starks and Targaryens are not to mix, else the product of that mixture brings forth the Darkness,” Elia reminded the young girl. 

“Yes, I understand that, Eli--my Queen,” Lyanna corrected quickly. “Rhaegar and I made the mistake, but the prophecy is still true. The Darkness is coming. We need to decipher more of the prophecy to prepare,” she turned back to her tome. 

“You need to take care of your son,” Elia grit her teeth. “You only feed him to comfort yourself, you don’t cloth him or bath him, or even hold him. You haven’t even named him. Do you even care for this child?” She asked. 

Lyanna tensed, the quill in her hand stopping in its movement. “I--I can’t,” she admitted. The young Northern woman turned back to the Dornish woman. “I can’t love him,” she looked at the child in sadness. “He is not my Visenya. He...he isn’t…” she sighed. “I cannot love him when his fate is to die. I cannot love him because when I look upon him, I only see the things that he is not. He is not what was promised to me; I feel a lot towards this child of my body. But I do not feel love for him,” she looked down. “I know you must think me heartless. How can a mother not love her son?” She absentmindedly shrugged. She took to playing with a wayward string from the stitching of her dress. “But I did not want a wife’s life, or a mother’s life. I wanted to ride horses, I wanted to explore. I wanted to fight. I wanted everything that I could not have.”

“And yet you took what was not yours to have,” Elia could not help the barb that left her mouth.

Lyanna nodded sadly. “I thought I was doing something good; I would help save the world. I would help finish the Three that would save us all. One of the Mothers of our saviors. Rhaegar promised me that he would allow me to fight in the Battle to come. He would teach me himself; that is why he had the three guards...Dayne, Oswell, and Barristan, with me. They were slowly teaching me as much as they could while I carried Visen--” she sighed. “The boy.” She shook her head. “I know you love children, Elia. I have heard how you care for the orphanages from Dorne to King’s Landing; how you advocated for their education, how you bathed some of them yourself. Take my son as your own if you please,” she told the tan skinned woman. “He deserves a mother...and I cannot be that for him. I may be his mother of body, but I am not his mother of soul,” she shook her head. “I would only grow to resent him. And I do not wish for an innocent child to have hatred thrown towards them. Name him what you’d like; a Northern name, a Targaryen name, even a Dornish name if you wish. But do not name me his mother. Not when I will only disappoint him.” She squared her shoulders and turned back to her tome once again. 

Elia watched Lyanna for a while, shock in her body. She could not understand how a mother could not love her child. She loved her Rhaenys and Aegon fiercely. She would die for them. She would kill for them. She already  _ had  _ killed for them. Though Rhaella’s children were not her own, she felt the same towards Viserys and Daenerys. She even felt some wisps of care for the pale, gray eyed babe in her arms. While Lyanna said she felt none. Only disappointment. She shook her head, walking out of the young girl’s chambers and back to the nursery. 

Elia sat in a small rocking chair, moving the babe from her shoulder to her arms, peering down on his face. He was sleeping, although the slight movements awoke him. The child opened his eyes, it’s light gray color meeting Elia’s onyx eyes. The boy cooed and his mouth had the whisper of a smile on it. She smiled slightly in response. “Well dear boy…” she sighed. “I do not know what to do with you. I care for you truly. I look into your eyes and only see a young baby. I do not see the cause of this war; not when one half is sitting in this Keep. You are but an innocent casualty of their mistakes. But the Kingdom does not think of you in this way. They curse your name and hold hate in their hearts for you,” she frowned. “How could they blame you? You can no sooner hold a blade more than you can hold my finger,” she placed her index finger in the babe’s small hand, laughing slightly as his hand opened and grasped hers tightly. “So tight,” she smiled. “Aegon cut off my blood to my finger, at least you are being kind to not squeeze that tightly.” 

She continued to rock in her chair, closing her eyes. As the boy squeezed her finger tighter and let out a cry that she recognized, she absentmindedly removed the shoulder strap of her dress. She took the babe to her breast and allowed him to drink. She ran her finger down his cheek, smiling as the boy’s eyes closed in pleasure of a soft touch and warm milk. “Jon Arryn is an honorable man; he fostered your Uncle and turned him into a kind man in turn. He allows my rule and works with me. Although I do not want to name you in his image. But I do want to honor Jon in some way,” Elia mused as she continued to nurse the babe. Jonnys? No, we have a Nys in Rhaenys...Jonerys?” Elia shook her head. “Jonothor?” She sneered. “It sounds too...harsh. “Jonell?...hmm,” she hummed. “It’s not horrible,” she joked with the now sleeping babe in her arms. “Jonmir? A way to tie you to my Dornish ancestor, Nymeria so that the Kingdom knows I value you? Jonseph isn’t a bad name; an uncommon enough name that you will not run into another unlike the Rhaegars and Aegons around these Seven Kingdoms,” she laughed. “Hmm, I truly like the sound Jonell. It’s a nice name. It honors both Jon Arryn, but also your grandmother Rhaella, who was the first to insist on your naming. Is that your name?” She took the babe from her breast in preparation to burp him. “Jonell? Is this your name?”

The small baby opened his eyes and let out a giggle. 

Elia laughed, placing the child on his shoulder as she patted his back. “That is your name then. Jonell.” She frowned. “But what of your last name? You cannot be a Targaryen. I would not want to name you Sand or Waters...though the Kingdom would disagree. Nor would I want to name you in Blackfyre…” she shuddered. “The curse that name brings is too horrid. Stark? Would you want to be Jonell Stark?” She breathed in. “It would be nice to honor your Uncle...and the woman who birthed you...but a Stark in the South does not fare well. Starks belong in the North. And I do not think…” she let out a sigh. “I do not think you will be living in the North. I would name you Martell if only to annoy my brother and let the Kingdoms think he is your father,” she laughed. “Jonell Martell does have a nice ring to it,” she mused. “Or shall you be Jonell the Unnamed if we cannot decide? At least you have been named...we just do not know what House you shall belong to, my dear heart.”

~*~*~

“I hear the small child has a name,” Oberyn burst into Elia’s solar as she laid on a chaise, sunbathing by her window. 

“Yes, I have decided for Jonell. For Jon Arryn and his honor and loyalty, and for Rhaella for her tie to her grandchild and for being the one to bring forth the issue of name,” she told her brother, keeping her eyes closed as she relaxed.

“Jonell Waters? Since he was born in King’s Landing, or Jonell Sand for his conception in Dorne?” Oberyn grabbed his sister’s legs and placed them on his lap as he sat next to her.

Elia opened one eye. “I have not decided on his last name yet.”

“Whatever you do, do not name him Jonell Targaryen. He is not legitimate and it will raise questions about the succession,” Oberyn pointed out. 

“Yes, I know that, Oby. I am not an imbecile. And there should not be any questions of succession,” Elia closed her eyes again. “I am Queen, and Aegon will be King once he is of age, then Rhaenys shall be his heir until he bores children of his own, though I would not like to think of him baring children whilst he still feeds at my breast,” she grimaced. 

“You’d put Rhaenys over Rhaegar’s son? In King’s Landing, though Rhaenys is also Rhaegar’s, a male heir regardless of mother would have more of a claim,” he sneered, hating the succession laws in the Six Kingdoms.

Elia opened her eyes and sighed. “I’d put a legitimate child over an illegitimate child.”

Oberyn nodded. “Then Viserys must come after Rhaenys, then Daenerys, then Jonell if there is none left.”

Elia shook her head and sat up. “I see I shall have no time to myself to relax from the weight of all of my responsibilities.”

“Being a Queen is no small task, dear sister,” Oberyn laughed, placing a curl of his sister’s hair behind her ear. 

Elia rolled her eyes, slapping her brother’s hand away. “Stop that. I do not want to think of the line of succession. Thinking of that leads me to think of what would happen if the children I love die. And I do not want to think of that,” she wrinkled her nose. “What if I named him Jonell Martell?” She tried, joking with her brother.

Oberyn’s eyes widened. “Are you sick in the head?” 

Elia laughed boisterously at her brother’s shocked expression. “I jest, dear brother,” she told him. “Although Jonell Martell has a nice ring to it, I am not naming him as a Martell. I do not want to be cruel and name him a bastard, nor do I want to name him as a Stark, or Blackfyre. I do not want him to be Jonell the Unnamed, but it seems he may be.” 

Oberyn shook his head. “You have many things on your shoulder, sister. Ruling suits you, but I have no doubts that it is difficult. But I have another task for you to do.”

Elia groaned. “Can’t I just lay in the rare sun that visited us and shirk my responsibilities for one day?” She threw herself onto her brother’s lap and laid her head on his legs. 

Oberyn laughed, pulling back his sister’s hair. “I’m afraid you cannot, Lia.”

Elia smiled, feeling his hands playing with her hair. “Remember when we used to do this in Dorne? Whenever you would be filled with anger or impatience, I would just lay my head down on your lap and we would talk about anything and everything.”

Oberyn smiled as he reminisced. “There was a time when we were young babes when I did the name. Whenever Mama would not let me train, I would run to you and lay down in your lap and you let me cry. You were, and still are, the only person I allow to see me cry,” he admitted. “We may not be twins, but you are my twin in every way but sharing the womb. You are my twin soul,” he scratched at her scalp. “I would find myself lost to anger and impossible rage if you were to leave this world without your proper time in it.”

“You would lose yourself to your death,” Elia told him. “Your anger, when not controlled, is a blazing fire. A fire that could consume 10,000 ships,” she hummed. “It would consume you too, burning you alive and killing you before your time,” she turned her head to look up at him. “You cannot allow the fire to take you with it. Do not let the fire consume you, consume it. Use it to your advantage.”

“Train yourself to deal with the waves of life,” Oberyn recited, his eyes glazed over.

Elia furrowed her eyebrows. “What?”

The youngest Martell sibling shook his head. “Something an Orphan told me. Come Elia. The Greenblood wants to begin your training,” he lifted his sister from her lap.

~*~*~*~

Elia and Oberyn arrived at the Pond of the Rhoyne as they began to call it. 

There was a dark skinned person standing in between the glowing waters and the weirwood tree, their back to the two Dornish people. They turned around and Elia was surprised to see green and dark black markings all over the Orphan’s face and visible skin. They had no visible features that could determine them to be a woman or a man as their chest was binded with brown cloth and a brown loincloth. 

“Princess Elia of Dorne, now Queen Elia of Westeros,” the Orphan spoke. They had a strange accent. It was much, much deeper than a Dornish accent and gruffer than most. “You do your ancestors proud.” 

“Thank you,” Elia bowed her head in respect. “What may I call you?” 

“I am Nymeisto, if you please,” the Greenblood bowed in return. “I was named for Nymeria and a powerful Water sorceress, Aiguiesta.”

“Are you male or female?” Oberyn, ever the brash one, asked. 

Nymeisto smiled. “I am both, my Prince. I carried breasts before but they were removed as a part of my ceremony to become a Sorcerer. But as one of the premiere Coven members, I cannot engage in any activities to make children. Before you ask,” they held their hand up to stop Oberyn from speaking. “I receive my pleasure from the waters of the Rhoyne. That brings me more pleasure than what I can receive through any physical activities. I do not enjoy pleasures of the flesh; I prefer the pleasure of magic. Now you have brought my Rhoynish sister to begin her training, thank you, my Prince.”

Elia’s expression was confused. “Oberyn cannot train?”

Nymeisto nodded. “He can, but more of the magic flows through you. You were baptized in the waters of the Rhoyne and the Mother Rhoyne blessed you. Oberyn can train as well, and he has, but he has only gone as furthest as he can without the innate power. You, Elia, carried innate power long before your baptism, and your baptism only grew your power. What I can teach you, I would never be able to even begin to explain to your brother.”

“Will he stay?” Elia was self conscious, a rare moment nowadays with her. But she felt like she needed her brother near her. 

“If you would like him to, yes. This is your training, Elia. You can decide who can be here,” the Greenblood told her.

Elia turned to Oberyn. “Stay? Please?”

Oberyn gave his sister a small smile. “Whatever you wish, dear sister.”

Nymeisto smiled. “It is beautiful to see such a close connection; you two share something special. You have shared many lifetimes as each other’s confidants, best friends, and siblings. Your souls are very much tied together.”

“How do you know that?” Elia breathed. 

“I was at your baptism, Elia,” the Greenblood laughed. They gestured to Elia and Oberyn, kneeling down. They waved their hands over the glowing pond. The water rippled slowly, then violently as the Greenblood clapped and suddenly an image appeared in the water. Nymeisto stood at the River of the Greenblood in Dorne, holding a small baby in their arms. Lorenza stood in the water a way back as Nymeisto placed a hand on Elia’s head and closed their eyes. “I consecrated you in the name of Mother Rhoyne. I spoke over your small body, declaring you as Sacred Water Sorceress to be Princess Elia Meryah Ny Sar Nymerios Martell, a child of the Mother Rhoyne, the Mother of Water Magic and Bringer of Magic.”

Elia blinked from her kneeling position. “Mother of Water Magic? What do you mean?”

“You carry part of Nymeria’s soul within you. Oberyn has another part. Your children, Rhaenys and Aegon have the final two parts of Nymeria’s soul,” Nymeisto told the siblings. They waved their hands towards their body, and in that motion the image disappeared. “In training to be a Sorcerer, one of the final parts is to go on a vision quest while in the water of the Rhoyne. My very first vision was of you, dear one,” Nymeisto smiled wistfully. “Now I cannot reveal all of my vision because much of it has not come to pass, but I saw you bringing back Water Magic to the world, and more importantly to Dorne and the descendants of the Rhoyne. You also have opened the door to bring back magic, true magic, to Westeros. You are a very powerful gift to this world. The Mother Rhoyne spoke to you and saved you, for you will birth magic.”

Elia took in a shuddering breath. “That is...a lot to live up to, Nymeisto.”

The Greenblood gave her a kind smile. “Being a Princess is a lot to live up to, and yet you were born to it with grace. Being a wife, a mother, a Queen...all of it is a lot and yet you have excelled at each of these. I have no doubt that you will excel at these new titles with the same grace that you have done with your previous titles.”

Elia nodded slowly. “How do we begin?”

“Remove your dress,” Nymeisto said. “You may leave your night shift on, as I will leave my own night cloths on.” Without another word, they turned and slowly walked into the pond. They left their head above the water, softly kicking their feet to keep afloat.

Elia removed her dress and her jewelry and followed them into the water.

Oberyn sat against the weirwood, taking out a small journal, taking notes of everything that went on. He wanted to have a comprehensive detailing of the process so that future generations may have this information. 

Elia hummed to herself as she swam in the Rhoynish waters. She had goosebumps up and down her body as she spun around, enjoying her time in the water. Her arms were spread as she moved them through the water, playing like a child. She opened her eyes that she didn’t realize she shut and saw Nymeisto smile fondly at her. “I apologize,” she said bashfully. 

“Don’t apologize, Elia,” they smiled. “I feel the same way every time I dip into the waters of Rhoyne. Now, have you any skills with water magic?”

Elia furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?” 

“What can you do in the waters?” Nymeisto said simply. 

Elia blinked. “I’ve been able to see visions in the water,” she began. “The Spirits of the Rhoyne and Mother Rhoyne herself have spoken to me. There was a vision I received, upon my first taste of the Rhoyne water. I was a little girl again and my mother held me on her lap. I had the water in my hand and I was able to move it with my other hand...without touching it.” She recited. 

Nymeisto nodded to themselves. “As a small girl you said moved water, you say?” 

Elia nodded. “Yes, is that bad?”

“No, Elia. It is good. Very good in fact. Most Water Witches are not able to move water until much later in their adulthood. I myself was not able to move water until I was...how do you Westerosi keep time?” Nymeisto muttered to themselves. “Six and ten namedays old. That is very impressive, Elia. We will expound on that today. Now, take some water into the palm of your hand.”

Elia cupped her hand into the water and lifted her hand up, having a small amount of water in it. 

“Try to move it,” Nymeisto said simply.

Elia’s head looked up to the Greenblood quickly. “Excuse me?”

“Try to move the water,” they repeated. 

Elia blinked, confused on what to do. She stared at the water and with the intention of moving it, she concentrated. She put an image in her head of the water moving powerfully and jumping out of her hand back into the pond. 

Oberyn guffawed as he observed his sister.

Elia huffed, dropping her hand. “Is there something funny, Oby?”

Oberyn was still cackling. “You look like you are constipated and are trying to push out a shit,” he slapped his thigh as his laughter wracked his body. 

Elia glared at him. She hated when Oberyn would tease her in things she wanted to take seriously. 

The water around Elia rippled out from her body, almost as if it were vibrating with Elia as the conduit. The water continued to slosh violently around her, undulating closer to Oberyn. As the young Prince continued to laugh at his sister, a mist lifted in only one small spot of the pond. In that spot, the water spun and spun, eventually lifting up and meeting the mist, creating a water spout. The water spout suddenly shot up and flew towards Oberyn. Oberyn’s face was splashed with water as if it was thrown at him. 

“Nymeisto, what?” Oberyn exclaimed.

“Oh that was not me,” the Greenblood pursed their lips to keep their laughter stifled. “That was your very talented sister,” they proudly turned to Elia who looked shocked. 

“Me?” Elia gasped. “How?”

“Passion,” Nymeisto said simply. 

Elia’s brow furrowed and looked slightly disgusted. “Passion? For my brother? I’m sorry, Nymeisto, but I felt nothing but anger towards my brother.”

Nymeisto nodded. “And in the anger you felt, there was passion. Passion is what fuels our emotions,” they said sagely. “When you feel sadness, there are moments you can feel sad yet compose yourself. But there are moments where the sadness becomes impassioned; where you cannot take it. The intense passion of the emotion causes you to cry. The same is said for anger, for love, for moments of joy; for every emotion that exists,” they said. They moved their hand softly and slowly in the air, slightly above the water, a seductive movement in its nature. A small water spout appeared. With their other hand, they put their index finger in the water and lifted it, with their finger, a flow of water followed. Nymeisto touched the water spout they formed and it grew with the water flowing from his finger. “In Water Magic, we as Sorcerers have certain keys that can help us connect to our inner  _ magicae anima mea _ and open our power,” they spoke the Rhoynish words for magic soul. “My own key is curiosity. My curiosity is what allows my magicae anima mea open and brings forth my power. Sorceress of the Mist’s own trigger is her senses.”

“So what is mine?” Elia asked, feeling very much like a young girl and not a woman of 26 as she was.

“Passion,” Nymeisto repeated. “When you were a small girl, the passion of excitement caused your magicae anima mea to activate. When looking for a vision for the Long Night, the passion of motherhood, of protection, of leadership activated your powers. In this case with your brother, it was the passion of anger of his teasing of you.”

Elia nodded, feeling her soul that the Greenblood spoke the truth. “So how can I bring forth my passion to cause my magic to appear?”

“Only you can unlock that, my Queen,” Nymeisto told her. 

~*~*~*~

By the time the sun began to rise slightly, Elia was wet from head to toe. She was soaked as a result of her practicing. She was huffing, biting her lip in anger at all of her failed attempts. She wanted to act like a child and pound her fists on her surroundings as Rhaenys tended to do when she was upset. But she did not want to disrespect the ancestral waters that she was in. 

Oberyn was still by the weirwood, surprisingly very awake, diligently taking his notes. 

“I do not understand why I cannot find my passion. Or why you cannot tell me,” Elia frowned.

Nymeisto shook their head, a smile on their face. “Because though I know how you unlock it, it must be for  _ you  _ to find, Elia.”

“Concentrate, Elia,” Oberyn offered his sister words of encouragement. “Think on how you did it before.”

“I  _ have  _ been doing that, Oberyn,” Elia glared at her brother. 

The renowned Red Viper raised a cocky eyebrow. He looked down at his sister’s drenched body. “Clearly, you have not been.” 

Elia grit her teeth, exhaling sharply through her nostrils. She closed her eyes once more. Elia felt exhausted. All she wanted to do was sleep. For a week. Or two. She was now Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, having to deal with an insolent woman child, the results of a foolish war, trying to find her husband who betrayed her, keeping an eye on any insurgents attempting to usurp her, and so much more that she could not even begin to think deeper of. She was tired. But she had to be strong. It was not in her blood, in her being to be weak. She was a Martell; unbowed, unbent, unbroken. She was blood of the Rhoyne. She held pride that the Mother Rhoyne blessed her with these abilities and gave her the courage to save her and her children’s lives. 

_ You can do this, my child. The power has always been within you.  _

Elia took in a deep breath, slowly opening her eyes. She reached into the water and cupped a small amount. She focused on the water, her intention at the forefront of her mind. With her next breath, the water in her hand slowly lifted up with the movement of her eyes. It was like a small bubble of water floating in the air. She continued to guide the water bubble with her eyes, moving it up, up in the air, until it was over her head. With a blink, the water bubble dropped into the water with a plop.

Elia looked up to Nymeisto with a proud smile on her face. “I did it!” She cheered.

“You did,” the Greenblood returned her smile and nodded. “Congratulations Elia.”

Elia looked up to her brother and smiled proudly at him. Maybe with practice, she could find calmness within herself. 

~*~*~*~

“Mama! Mama!” Rhaenys’s cheerful voice echoed in the Great Hall, making Elia’s small council and the various commoners who were there for an audience with the Queen smile as they parted to make room for the running Princess. 

Elia grinned proudly as she saw her daughter run. She quickly nodded to Jaime as she got up from her iron, sword filled chair.

Jaime smiled and caught the small brown skinned girl before she ran up the stairs of the Iron Throne and held her in his arms. He couldn’t place her on his hip because his armor and his sword were firmly on his body. “Your Highness, you must be careful while running to the Throne. You could cut yourself,” he kindly chastised her.

Rhaenys giggled. “I’m sorry, Jaime. I was so excited to see Mama!” She poked at his nose and grabbed his cheeks in her hands and pushed them together, causing his face to scrunch up. She giggled once more. “Thank you for saving me,” she smiled.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Jaime kissed the young girl on her forehead, not caring about people’s reactions.

“My wonderful water flower,” Elia reached the steps at the bottom of the throne and plucked her daughter from Jaime’s arms. “You know your Mama is helping the realm,” she turned her body, showing her daughter the many people who were smiling politely and waving at the small princess.

Rhaenys grinned happily and waved back. “Hello realm! I am Rhaenys!”

The room laughed kindly as some replied back “Hello Princess Rhaenys”. 

“Mama, I can help?” Rhaenys’s eyes widened. “Nymeisto finished their lesson with me today and they says I did soooo good.”

Elia smiled down at her daughter. After her own lesson with Nymeisto, she requested that they teach Rhaenys, if only so that Rhaenys could have a better head start with water magic than she did. And, according to Nymeisto, Rhaenys was taking to the water magic like she was born in the waters of the Rhoyne herself. “You may sit with me, but you must be quiet and listen carefully. And you must not wriggle on my lap, the swords will poke at you.”

“Okay Mama,” Rhaenys nodded solemnly, looking at the large and sharp throne over her mother’s shoulder warily. 

Elia carefully carried her daughter back up the throne with her and placed her right on her lap. She placed her arms around her daughter, becoming a shield around Rhaenys so that she would not get sliced by any of the swords. “Who is next for an audience?” She called out. 

One man stepped forward, wearing ragged and baggy clothes. He bowed deeply. “Your Majesty, Your Highness,” he greeted them respectfully. 

  
“What is your request or your concern, sir?” Elia spoke, watching the man’s nervous body language. 

“My daughter, your Majesty,” the man’s face reddened with embarrassment. “She is with child, but she has no husband. During the Sack of King’s Landing, some Lannister soldiers abused her...and took her womanhood. Because supplies were scarce, we could not locate any moontea. The people in our small village ridicule her even though just months before the war, she assisted in caring for their children and helped to heal their wounds,” he twisted his hands together, his eyes still on the ground. “I was wondering if you could find her a husband or take her into your care, or something. My daughter is a smart and kind hearted, quiet woman. Our community turned their backs on her for something she did not do…” he sighed angrily. “I cannot have her wither away as she has been.”

Elia pursed her lips, thinking through his words. “You say your daughter cared for the children in your village?”

The man looked up. “Yes, your Majesty. Many in our village work hard and long hours and many of the children are left to their own devices. Children alone are children up to something,” he joked, making the many parents in the room laugh knowingly. “So my daughter would take them and entertain them. She didn’t teach them anything; she’s not a septa. But she would sing to them, and play with them. And then walk them to their parents’ huts to make sure they were safe.”

“And she healed them?” Elia asked once more.

“Yes, your Majesty,” the man nodded. “As children are wont to do, they get scratched and injured, and my daughter knows many healing ailments to help with their wounds.” 

“And you say your daughter is a smart and kind hearted woman?” 

The man nodded vigorously. “Aye. If not for the circumstances of her surroundings, she could be a comely Lady.”

Elia nodded and she felt her daughter tap at her leg. “Yes, my Nys?”

“What if she came to court, Mama?” Rhaenys whispered to her mother. “She could watch us. Wylla can’t keep up with Vis and Bara and Nym and Ty and me. Her baby could play with Egg and Nerys and Jon and Rella,” she optioned, giving many many nicknames to her brothers, cousins, uncle, and aunt. 

“That is exactly what I was thinking, my love,” Elia kissed the back of her daughter’s head. She looked up to the nervous man. “If I can receive...three letters of recommendations for your daughter, I will allow her into my court as one of the children’s caretakers that we employ here.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Thank you, your Majesty, thank you so much. I will get that to you at once.”

Elia gave him a kind smile. “Of course, sir. My daughter came up with the idea, actually,” she laughed. “Lord Mystel,” she gestured to one of the courtiers taking notes of today’s audience. The Lord looked up and nodded towards her. “Please get the man’s information and inform him of where he can send the correspondence.”

“Thank you again, your Majesty. Thank you, little Highness,” he gave Rhaenys a small wave. 

“Good job,  _ anani _ ,” Elia squeezed her daughter in her arms. She spoke the Rhoynish word for water flower for her daughter. “You are a good council to have.”

Rhaenys giggled at her mother’s praise. 

After a few more petitioners, Elia was ready to call today’s audience to a close. Rhaenys was becoming whiny as she became hungrier. 

There were rumbles and shouts from outside could be heard inside the Great Hall. Many of the people in the room stared confusedly at the high windows at the shouts. They murmured to each other, wondering what all the commotion was. They were hoping it was not another sack, or Robert Baratheon coming back for his Lyanna. The Storm Lord was silent for much too long and it made many of the citizens in King’s Landing paranoid of when, not if, he would come back for the woman he rebelled for. 

Suddenly someone burst the doors of the Great Hall open.

Jaime suddenly unsheathed his sword and stood directly in front of the stairs of the Iron Throne as the other Kingsguard members; Sers Arthur Dayne, Oswell Whent, and Barristan Selmy circled nearby, ready to protect their Queen and Princess. 

A sweaty and shocked man was at the doors. “It’s the King! He’s alive!”

Elia blanched.  _ No _ .

All eyes turned to the doors, anticipating the arrival of their King.

Jaime turned and looked up to Elia with his eyes wide, shaking his head.  _ No,  _ he thought along with Elia. 

White hair could be seen as someone walked up the steps from just outside the hall. As the body slowly appeared as they walked up, the room let out a gasp and hushed immediately. 

Rhaegar Targaryen was alive. And well.

_ No, _ Elia thought to herself.  _ No, no, no. Be dead, stay dead. Do not ruin this for me yet again, Rhaegar.  _ She slightly tightened her grip on her tense daughter.

The crowd of petitioners, courtiers, members of the Small Council, and commoners bowed and curtsied as Rhaegar walked past them. They parted in the middle, just like they did for Rhaenys earlier in the day. 

Rhaegar was resplendent. He had no visible injuries. His white hair was longer than it was before he left for the war, full and luscious. His violet eyes looked at Elia intensely. He wore his black armor that was famed throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Some rubies were absent from his armor, but for the most part, still predominant on his chest. His sword was sheathed by his side. He walked up to Elia’s Queensguard and nodded to the three men who he took with him to Dorne as they stepped aside. 

Now he was in front of Jaime who sheathed his sword as soon as Jaime’s emerald eyes saw Rhaegar’s.

Rhaegar stood in front of Jaime, looking at the Lord Commander with no emotion. Then the once thought of as dead King nodded, patting Jaime on his shoulder and murmuring something under his breath to him. 

Jaime stepped aside, though reluctant as he did so.

Rhaegar climbed the steps of the Iron Throne. 

Everyone’s eyes followed the Targaryen as he approached their Queen, and his wife.

Elia tensed and shivered slightly, wondering what Rhaegar would do to her. Rhaenys was uncharacteristically silent, tense just like her mother. 

The room gasped once more as Rhaegar got on his knees, kneeling in front of his wife and daughter. Though carefully as he was still on the very dangerous throne.

Elia blinked and her body continued to shake as Rhaegar took her hand and placed his lips on her knuckle in a kiss.

“My lady wife,” Rhaegar’s low voice verberated around the room as the entire hall was silent, wanting to know how this reunion would take place. “My Queen,” he spoke again, unflinching as the crowd gasped at his address of Elia. His eyes, shining with pride, looked into Elia’s eyes.

Elia shivered again. Rhaegar was looking upon her as he did when they were married. Before he left for Lyanna. He was looking at her as a man in love. 

  
_ No, _ Elia thought again. Her hands twitched, as if she wanted to motion water near her.  _ No, no, no. You are ruining everything. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> told ya he'd come back. ;) don't flame me lol. remember, i got plansssssss. 
> 
> so sorry for the late post, this week got away from me and i found it hard to try to write; luckily i've already started on the next chapter. 
> 
> thank you for all the kudos, bookmarks, comments, and support! they mean so much to me and honestly make me write more! hope you enjoyed! let me know what you think!


	12. unfolding

Rhaegar's first declaration was that the coronation would happen within the week of his arrival. With no other information as to the status of his new son, or any other address to his courtiers, he dismissed the room of everyone save his wife and her Queensguard. 

Rhaegar kept his eyes connected with Elia’s. “Ser Oswell,” his melodic voice called out. “Please take my beautiful daughter to my mother,” he looked down slightly and smiled at his daughter.

Rhaenys folded in on herself slightly, seeing the man everyone called as her father address her so lovingly. She recognized him, but she also knew the hurt that he did towards her and her mother. 

“Go, my anani,” Elia whispered into her daughter’s ear. 

Rhaegar stood from his kneeling position and continued his walk up the Iron Throne and sat next to his wife, as there was room enough on the throne for the both of them. “Go, Rhaenys,” he gave her another encouraging smile.

Rhaenys nodded and leaned back to kiss her mother on the cheek. 

“Wait until Ser Dayne approaches near you, love,” Elia cautioned her daughter. “Lest you get pricked by the swords,” she teasingly teased her daughter as she poked her side, trying to get her to smile again. 

As Arthur came close to the three, Rhaenys carefully removed herself from her mother’s lap and into the arms of the kind Kingsguard who once was like an uncle to her, but that had since changed since the war. The Sword in the Morning handed her over to Oswell. 

Elia remained tense as her eyes followed her daughter down the stairs of the throne and out of the Great Hall. Now it was just her and Rhaegar on the throne, with Jaime, Barristan, and Arthur watching on guard. They walked over to the far doors, trying to give the King and Queen privacy. Elia remained silent, not giving Rhaegar the pleasure of her thoughts. Instead, she would respond to his comments. 

“Elia,” his melodic voice made her shiver.

“My King,” she bowed her head. 

“None of that,” Rhaegar shook his head. He reached for her hands and held them in his. “Elia, you do me and Dorne proud. Look at how you’ve ruled so far,” he chuckled. “You’ve made much better choices than I ever could have made.”

Elia blinked in surprise. Of all of the things she thought Rhaegar would say; it was not that. She kept her eyes on the rubies on his chest, not wanting to look into his eyes. 

“You rule so graciously. I am so lucky to have you as my wife,” he rubbed her knuckles. 

Elia felt the rage fill within her; her breath coming out of her nostrils rapidly. Her chest felt like it was burning, and she could feel her head begin to pound. “But not the only wife you wanted,” she couldn’t help herself from shooting back. 

Rhaegar’s smile dropped. “You have to understand, Lia--”

“Do not call me that!” Elia shouted, hearing her voice echo throughout the empty hall. She knew the guards could hear her, as well as the many citizens who likely stood behind the large doors wanting to hear everything. “I find it extremely ironic that both Lyanna and I have a similar shortened name so that you could not confuse us,” she let out a snort. “How many times since Harrenhal did you call me Lia while we fucked did I think you were referring to your other Lya?” She wrenched her hands away from his. 

Rhaegar grabbed her hands again and held them tightly. “Lia--Elia,” he corrected himself. “You have to know. I only did this for the prophecy. You know I am not a creature to love. I did not know true love until Rhaenys and Aegon were born,” he admitted. “My love for you grew once we were betrothed because you were such a safe council for me to have,” he tucked a tendril of Elia’s hair behind her ear. 

Elia flinched away from his touch and laughed again. “And you almost missed your son’s birth as you were writing back and forth with your pup; giving her flowery words about a prophecy that you misinterpreted.” 

The returned King shook his head. “I didn’t misinterpret it, Elia.” 

“Yes, you did,” Elia hissed. “It seems that your bloodline is not the only one that contains magic in its veins. While you were fighting your cousin for the woman whom you both loved so passionately; Tywin Lannister began a sack that killed and brutalized so many of the citizens in this capital. He ordered his Mountain to kill me, and our babes,” she glared at Rhaegar’s surprised face. “Before he tried to  _ rape _ me, I heard a voice in my Rhoynish language. It was the Mother Rhoyne, telling me to be strong.”

Rhaegar’s violet eyes grew dark as he looked down in shame. “I had heard of your victory over that dog,” he hissed.

“Oh?” Elia narrowed her eyes. “You were receiving news about  _ my _ pain and  _ my  _ rule while you left me to heal the broken country you made? Only to come back heroically once _ I  _ did all of the work to take credit? Where even were you, Rhaegar?” Elia gripped the handrails of the throne, but removed her hands as she got a flashback of Aerys doing the same once before. She quickly removed her hands from the throne. 

Rhaegar looked down. “I know I was not here to help you; you have had to deal with much. You put together the Kingdom, you helped Lyanna, you have improved so much of King’s Landing alread--”

“Enough with your flowery words,” Elia rolled her eyes. “It no longer works on me. Be frank with me. You owe me that much,” she raised an eyebrow at him. 

Rhaegar took in a deep breath. “I was in Essos,” he admitted.

“You were  _ where _ ?!” Elia shouted. She shook her head. She got up from her seat and made her way down the steps of the throne. 

“Elia,” Rhaegar called after her. 

She could hear him walking down the steps of the throne and knew he would follow her. She opened the Great Doors, pausing slightly to see the crowd of people lingering around. She breathed through her nostrils as they parted to make way for Elia. She could feel Rhaegar coming up behind her. 

“Elia,” Rhaegar whispered. 

Elia shook her head. “Follow me,” she told him. She nodded towards the people and watched as they bowed and curtsied to their King and Queen. She shook her head as she watched all of the commoners whisper amongst themselves to watch the estranged couple walk together. She walked towards Blackwater Bay, seeing a large black ship with a Targaryen standard on it. “I assume this is the ship that brought you here,” Elia told him.

“Yes, it is. It is a ship from Essos,” Rhaegar confirmed. 

“So you were in Essos...when I had to fight for my life, fight for our children’s lives,” Elia shook her head. “I fought for the throne, for peace in the kingdoms, all the while you were in Essos. Doing what?”

Rhaegar watched his wife carefully. “Can I trust you?”

Elia’s blood boiled as her hands shook with anger. 

The water nearby Blackwater Bay rippled closer to Elia’s feet. The water rippled violently and rapidly. 

Rhaegar looked down, his eyebrows furrowed. “There’s not a storm coming in,” he murmured in his King’s Landing accent. 

Elia rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist. She watched as a water spout shot out and sprayed Rhaegar in the face. 

Rhaegar sputtered and wiped his face. “What in the Gods?”

Elia raised her eyebrow. “Your bloodline is not the only one with magic in its veins,” she repeated as she grit her teeth in impatience. 

Rhaegar’s eyes widened and he slowly nodded. 

“How dare you ask me if you can trust me?” Elia grit her teeth. “I bore two children back to back, against many maesters’ and midwives’s cautions. I was your political council who  _ told _ you to go forth with the Great Council but you whimpered under the fear of your father. In the beginning of your prophecy fantasies, I assisted you,” she scoffed. “I helped your...concubine birth her child, and I named the child because your Wolf has fallen with your follies and has been studying the prophecy, I have sewn together the Kingdom, I am raising the children, your children and your siblings. I am advising your mother through her trauma; all of which I am trying to navigate through my own trauma.” she listed. “And you ask me if you can trust me?” She shook silently. She took in another deep breath as she closed her eyes. “I am tired, Rhaegar. So very tired,” she admitted. “I want nothing more than to just hold my children and cry through my pain, but I cannot. I am not allowed to. I cannot take another weight. How dare you ask me if you can trust me? As if my actions have not been enough.”

Rhaegar’s eyes misted over with tears. He looked into Elia’s dark brown eyes. He took her hands into his as he kneeled. 

Elia opened her eyes and blinked, seeing Rhaegar on one knee. “Rhaegar, please get up,” she said. 

The white haired man shook his head. “I have failed you, Elia. I have failed you as a husband, but most importantly, as a friend.” He looked up at her. “Upon our betrothal, we wrote letters to each other, we gained a small trust in each other as we were soon to embark on married life together and in the future, ruling together. You were my friend before you became my wife and lover. I  _ do  _ trust you, Elia. I  _ do  _ love you, even though you may not believe it. I will spend the rest of my life trying to show you it. But if I never achieve that, I at least want to gain your trust back. I have just been surrounded with many untrustworthy people in my life. From my own father, the court, other High Houses, even my time in Essos. But I never felt on guard around you,” his thumbs rubbed across her knuckles. “I will never stop apologizing and admitting to my sins to you in hopes of repentance from you. You don’t have to accept it. But know that it is true.”

Elia sighed. “Words are wind, Rhaegar,” she said softly. “You have once told me that you would put me above the prophecy. And you have not done that,” she shook her head, tired of repeating herself. “Just show me what you need to, Rhaegar.”

The King of the Seven Kingdoms nodded solemnly, knowing he has lost the love and trust of his wife.

\----

Rhaegar took her to the bottom of the ship, in the dungeons. The land was above them now, as water rushing by could be heard through the walls. 

Elia cursed herself for not bringing Jaime with her. “Are you going to lock me up?” She asked as she saw him open a door to a cell. She stared at her husband warily. She thought she knew him once, but after the war, she knew that she didn’t know him at all. 

Rhaegar turned to Elia, hurt in his eyes. He looked down in shame. “I see I have broken your trust so far that you would think I would inflict violence on you,” he let out a breath and shook his head. “Since you cannot trust me, just stand here.” He walked into the cell and brought out a chest. 

“What is that?” Elia looked cautiously at the brown chest in his arms. 

“Look,” Rhaegar beckoned her to follow him as he set the chest down on a large table. He unbuckled the chest and opened it. 

Elia peered into the box and gasped at what she saw. Three dragon eggs, perfectly petrified, but still scaled detaily. “Dragon’s eggs,” she whispered. 

“Yes,” Rhaegar nodded. “I was told they were turned to stone. But a red witch showed me how to revive them. It takes a great sacrifice,” he said gravely. 

Elia looked up. “How?”

Rhaegar laughed sardonically. “It’s in our words. Fire and Blood. The eggs require fire and blood to hatch.”

“Life’s blood or just an amount of blood?” Elia asked, suddenly fearful of the eggs. She will not sacrifice any of her family for these creatures. _ No matter how much we will need them for the Long Night, _ she thought to herself. 

“That I do not know, I will have to do more research,” Rhaegar pursed his lips.

Elia rolled her eyes. “And when will you rule the country,  _ King  _ Rhaegar?” She raised her eyebrow. 

Rhaegar blinked. “I thought you realized, Elia.”

“Realized  _ what _ ?” 

“I’m leaving the country in your hands,” Rhaegar told her. “You rule so much greater than I ever could. Even the North, from your kindness with Lord Ned Stark, appreciates you. If I retained ruling, I would have many opposing factions. And perhaps attempts at rebellion. You were born to be a Queen, Elia,” he slowly ran fingers across the crown on her head. He saw the three dragons as they roared above her head. “We’ll have to change your crown. Yes, you are a Targaryen by marriage, but you are a Martell. A strong Martell woman who proves the steadfastness of her Rhonyish bloodline.” 

Elia took in a deep breath, watching her husband look at her so tenderly. A shiver ran down her spine. “They will not accept a woman at the throne, let alone a Dornishwoman.” 

“They must, they  _ will _ ,” Rhaegar’s eyes darkened. “I don’t care if I have to go to every objecting Kingdom and order their fealty to you. They  _ will _ accept you as ruling Queen,” his face twisted in anger. “I say this not as a husband, but as a friend and one who has accepted your council many times over. You were meant to rule more so than I was. You are a far better ruler than I.”

Elia shook her head and closed her eyes. “Rhaegar, please. May we discuss this, all of this,” she gestured to her crown and the chest in front of her. “Later, please. I’m growing a headache and I am feeling too much.”

“Of course,” Rhaegar told her. “May I escort you to your chambers?” At her hesitancy, he continued. “As only an escort and a friend, Elia, peace.” He held out his arm toward her.

Elia looked at him carefully before nodding. She accepted his arm and watched as he closed the chest and locked it with his free hand. 

\----

Elia sat in her solar, wearing orange loose Dornish clothes. Her hair was free from adornments, hanging free to her waist and gathering in her lap from its length. Rhaenys sat in her lap, playing with and braiding her mother’s hair. Elia smiled down onto her daughter, who gave her a toothy smile back.

Jaime sat, his Kingsguard attire removed, wearing only a red doublet with brown breeches. On his lap, sat Aegon, who was happily bouncing his legs and dancing around. Jaime laughed heartily, holding the boy’s hands in his, helping him with his bounce. 

Oberyn sat at a desk next to Nymeisto as they both pored over a large tome, writing in their own journals as they read together. 

“Elia,” Jaime whispered, trying to only catch her attention.

Elia’s smiling face looked up from her daughter, to the man she trusted above all. “Yes?” She kept her voice lowered to match his. 

“If I asked, would you release me from my Queensguard vows?” He asked.

Elia blinked. “Do you want to be released?” Her heart fell. She was selfish. She wanted Jaime by her side. But she knew that Casterly Rock and the Westerlands needed a Lord. And with Lord Tywin’s trial, and likely death impending, she knew it was a matter of time before Jaime would have to be released. 

Jaime shook his head. “I do not. I do not want to leave yours or the children’s sides. However, I am...still affected by the attempted Sacking. I need to take some time away from my duties so I can repair my mind again,” he admitted. 

“You would stay here? Or return to your homeland?” Elia inquired. 

“I would stay,” Jaime’s emerald eyes locked onto Elia’s onyx ones. “Elia...I cannot leave your side,” he confessed. He looked carefully towards Nymeisto and Oberyn who were still into their tomes. They didn’t even notice the two conversing. Jaime stood up, Aegon still in his arms, as he walked over to sit next to Elia. He placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. He smiled as Rhaenys placed her head on Jaime’s chest. “Elia, you are my best friend here. The only person I trust most in this world. My heart...has a special place in it for you,” he was carefully with his words. “I want to be able to sit at dinners with you and the children, swim alongside you without having to have my duties in the forefront. I want to be able to leave and walk in the woods or by the shores of Blackwater Bay and try to find my own faith. I have so much to...to sort through my mind. My father...the Sacking...the magic, Jonell, the children, you, my sister…” he whispered more quietly. The thought of Cersei and him as they once were repulsed him. “The fate of Casterly Rock. I would not be able to serve you well whilst all of this runs through my mind. I need my mind clear of my duties to be able to think through. Of course, I would protect you and the children regardless. But I need to be free of the constricting heaviness of the Queensguard.”

Elia placed her chin on Jaime’s shoulder, looking up at him. “You…” she smiled softly. “I value you so much, Jaime. So very much,” she admitted. “You are my closest friend as well. I trust you above all others,” she told him. “I release you, temporarily, from your duties, Ser Jaime.” She smiled at him.

  
Jaime returned the smile and looked around carefully. He leaned down and chanced to place a kiss on her forehead. 

Elia sighed happily, leaning her head on his shoulder and watching as Rhaenys and Aegon fell asleep. She could be happy like this. Just her and Jaime, with the children. Her brother by her side with his daughters, Nymeisto training her. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend this was Dorne. In another life, where Tywin would’ve approved of her and Jaime’s marriage, this  _ would _ have been her life. 

The door opened suddenly, Arthur walking through it with Rhaegar behind him.

Elia blinked lazily, not moving from her position. She placed her hand on Aegon’s back, stopping Jaime from trying to remove the young boy from his lap. She did not care if her husband saw her and Jaime sitting and embracing. Rhaegar did not know what the two had been through. 

Rhaegar looked between Jaime and Elia, his jaw clenching. He was clearly displeased but was not able to verbalize it, lest he be a hypocrite. 

Oberyn laughed aloud as he watched the King’s tension watching his wife and her Queensguard intertwined. “Rhaegar, to what do we owe the displeasure?” He grinned. 

“Oberyn,” Elia said boredly. She did not actually take offence to his question, but she had to feign it so that tensions between her brother and her husband were kept at their lower minimal level. 

Rhaegar swallowed, his eyes still on Elia and Jaime sitting next to each other, Elia pressed up on his side, his children on Jaime’s lap. “I’m here to ask Elia if she would help me with the coronation,” he spoke monotonously. 

Arthur glared at Jaime, as his eyes shifted to Elia, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked upon her. 

Elia nodded, slowly removing the sleeping Rhaenys from her lap. “Of course,” she leaned down and placed a kiss on her children’s forehead, and gave Jaime’s hand a squeeze as she gave him a secret smile. 

“Do not take too long, Elia,” Oberyn interjected. “We have your lessons tonight,” he smirked. 

“Lessons?” Rhaegar was confused. 

Oberyn’s grin grew larger, looking much like the Viper he was known to be. “Oh you do not know?” He mocked. “Elia has water magic. And she must take her lessons so that she can reach her full potential,” he laughed at Rhaegar’s incredulous expression. 

“The Rhoyne’s water magic?” Arthur blurted out. 

Obeyrn’s black eyes shifted to his former close friend’s. His eyes glared through the Sword in the Morning. “Yes. The Mother Rhoyne spoke to our wonderful Queen. It seems water magic will be of great help in the battle of the Long Night that your King and his whore brought to the world.”

“ _ We _ brought?” Rhaegar’s face reddened. “We were trying to  _ save  _ the world from the Long Night.”

Oberyn cackled, standing up. “You are wrong. The Pact of Ice and Fire; between Starks and Targaryens wasn’t to  _ bring forth _ a child, it was to  _ prevent _ the two from ever coming together,” he hissed. 

“Oberyn, I had not discussed the other magic with Rhaegar quite yet,” Elia hissed towards her brother. “Come Rhaegar,” Elia nodded her head towards the door. “We will go to your chambers and I shall explain and then we shall discuss the coronation.”

Rhaegar closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, his hands clenched in fists by his side. He knew his good brother was trying to get a reaction out of him. He nodded carefully as he opened his eyes to look at his wife. “Okay, Elia,” he spoke softly. 

Elia gave Rhaegar her first real soft smile, thanking him silently for keeping his temper at bay. She walked to him and took his offered arm. “Jaime, if the children wake up, feel free to let them know where I’ll be and if they wish, take them to the nursery.”

“Yes, Elia,” Jaime nodded, using her name instead of her title. He knew he should address her as his Queen in front of Rhaegar, but he wanted to let the Targaryen king know that  _ he  _ was now Elia’s confidant and friend. And that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Elia smiled, watching the men in her life take such tones with their King. She walked with Rhaegar, following his guide to his chambers. 

“So you and Jaime are close then?” Rhaegar finally spoke. 

Elia nodded. “He saved my life, Rhaegar. And the children’s. And he is the only other person in this Keep who knows what I have been through. We were both hostages for Aerys,” she told him. “He kept me sane. You will respect him,” she raised an eyebrow at him. 

Rhaegar took in a deep breath. “It is hard. Watching you with another man.”

“My relationship with Jaime is one of friends, close friends, but friends,” Elia told him.

Rhaegar shook his head. “I see your eyes and his eyes,” he spoke softly. “We looked upon each other like that once before. Although you both guard yourself because of the pain and heartbreak you both have been through. It makes me jealous, Elia,” he confessed. “I see the way men look at you, before and now. It is not easy seeing two men who love you everyday,” he glanced back to Arthur who pretended that he wasn’t listening to their conversation. “I know it is hypocritical of me as I betrayed you for another woman, but I cannot help how I feel. In order to regain your trust, I am no longer keeping a thing from you,” he held the door open for his wife as they entered his solar.

Elia shook her head. “I do not know if I am even able to trust you again, Rhaegar,” she took a breath as she sat in the chair in front of his desk. She poured herself a goblet of watered down wine. She knew Rhaegar did not want to be in his cups much like Aerys was, so he chose to water down his wine. She wrinkled her nose and took a sip. “You need Dornish wine,” she commented. 

Rhaegar laughed at his wife, for the first time in a long time. “I thought I wouldn’t be welcome to it.”

Elia snorted. “You know we Dornish pride ourselves on our wine and horses. We have no enemies when it comes to those objects,” she raised an eyebrow to her husband. 

“Fair,” Rhaegar nodded. He took a seat at his desk. “Gods, how I hated this desk,” he said.

“Because you were made to rule and make decisions when you only wanted to be in your books,” Elia pointed out. 

“Which is why I want you to rule instead,” Rhaegar repeated. He removed his hair from its ponytail and shook it out. 

Elia placed her goblet to her chin. “This is...strange,” she observed as her husband unlaced the top of his doublet, not to seduce his wife, but only to give himself air.

“What is?” Rhaegar leaned forward and poured himself his own goblet of wine. 

“This. Us,” she moved her goblet between the two of them. “We’re conversing as if nothing happened between us.”

Rhaegar raised his eyebrow. “No, we’re not,” he laughed.

Elia tilted her head.

“We’re conversing as cordial friends, not as partners and husband and wife. Normally we would flirt with one another, run our hands across each other’s bodies, and remain connected always. That is our normalcy. Before I--” Rhaegar closed his eyes. “Before everything.”

Elia nodded. “You have a point,” she tilted her head to the side. 

“But before we grew to be lovers, I have always enjoyed conversing with you and debating with you,” Rhaegar told her. “Your mind is an interesting place to be. And extremely informative. It is something I was always fond of about you,” he admitted. “I’ve never had more interesting conversations,” he smiled. 

“Until you became obsessed with the prophecy,” Elia dared to say.

Rhaegar sighed deeply and nodded. “Until I became obsessed with the prophecy,” he affirmed. “Anyway,” he shook his head. “About this water magic. You did not trust me with the full knowledge of it. Would you ever have trusted me with the knowledge if not for your brother bringing it up?”

Elia bit her lip as she thought through her words. “Trust has in it the seed of betrayal, Rhaegar,” she began. “How do you expect me to trust you when in trusting you, there is an opportunity for the flower of betrayal to grow again? One flower of trust in you has already bloomed and died because you did not care for it properly. How can the seeds that remain not be only seeds of betrayal?” She let out a breath as she finished.

Rhaegar blinked, staring at his wife. “Eloquent as always, Elia.” He took a pause and stared at his desk, pondering over his words. “I know how much work I have to do in order to regain your trust, and I am willing to take on such a challenge. But when it comes to the prophecy, please tell me. Especially if it is true that…” he shook his head. “That instead of preventing the prophecy to come, I caused it to be.”

Elia stared at her husband carefully. 

“Tell me,” Rhaegar asked. “Not of your water magic. You do not trust me with it, this I know. But tell me about how severely I misinterpreted the prophecy.”

Elia sighed. “The way you interpreted the prophecy...you thought you needed to recreate the three heads of the dragon. To bring forth Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya once again. Aegon would be the Prince That Was Promised, the Lightbringer to defeat the Long Night that eventually was to come, correct?” 

Rhaegar nodded. “Yes. I saw the signs. I studied the stars and read tomes that it was to come.”

“Never mind that,” Elia shook her head. She took another sip of her wine. “One part of the prophecy that you unlocked, was that there  _ was _ a pact between Aegon Targaryen, and Torrhen Stark.”

“The pact of ice and fire. A child of Targaryen and Stark ancestry; and came with a song,” he chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Ned believes some of the Children of the Forest put the pact to song so that it would be passed down as a warning,” Elia mused. “It seems that the more that the Seven became the key religion in Westeros, the more they hid, and in turn, we lost the song.”

“So how did you find out that the pact was a warning and not a prophecy of what’s to come?” Rhaegar asked. 

Elia pursed her lips. She wanted to be careful of what she said. She did not know how much of the Old Gods and their religion that Lyanna told him. And she also wanted to keep much of her water magic herself. Though Rhaegar wasn’t as mad as his father, Elia could see the same glint growing in Rhaegar’s eyes whenever he spoke about the prophecy. “The Old Gods, and my own Gods, the Spirits of the Rhoyne, told us. They showed us the true meaning.” She let out a breath through her nostrils. “What if, in conceiving, Jon,” she said the small nickname of the boy Rhaegar and Lyanna created. “What if in conceiving him, instead of defeating the Long Night, you brought forth the Long Night? What if the White Walkers’ existence was just dormant until the soul of the Prince Who Was Promised Arrived?” She posed her rhetorical questions. “This prophecy was a warning. A warning that the pact of ice and fire must never be fulfilled, lest we bring the Long Night. Yours and Lyanna’s actions caused the Long Night to start,” she spoke carefully, mindful of the famed Targaryen anger.

Rhaegar’s face blanched as he ran his hand across his face. He then pushed his hair back, shaking his head. “But how do you  _ know _ this, Elia?” He asked. “How do you know that? I misinterpreted the prophecy, what is to say that whoever gave you that information did not misinterpret it?”

Elia gave Rhaegar a sad smile. “Because the Gods and the Spirits told us. The North’s Old Gods, and my Rhoynish Gods along with the Spirits of our ancestors. They allowed me to see,” she was not going to say that Oberyn, Ned, and especially Jaime, saw the vision as well. Oberyn and Ned, her husband would understand. But the fact that the Gods included Jaime as well? Rhaegar would not hold his already bristling anger towards the Young Lion. “I felt cold, painful, debilitating cold. And they told me. The Darkness cannot live without the Lightbringer. When one comes into existence, the other quickly comes forth as well,” she explained what the Gods told her. “They also spoke of another part.”

“Another part? Of the prophecy?” Rhaegar leaned on his desk and placed his head in his hands. “What more horror have I caused by misinterpreting the damned  _ warning _ ?” He didn’t sound mad, just resigned to the fact that he was the cause of his own worry. He brought forth the very thing he spent his whole life trying to prevent. 

Elia took in a deep breath as she remembered the words that circled in her mind everyday. “‘A joining of three on a beast from the east assists the Lightbringer. Magic awakens again, forgotten practices return from the shadows. Covering the lands in protection and in battle. Water and ice and fire come together; flooding and freezing and burning. The Lightbringer meant to face the magician who made it all come to be’,” Elia recited the words that the Gods told her. As she spoke she noticed a chill go across Rhaegar’s body. “Rhaegar?” She questioned as he lifted his shocked face to look at her in her eyes, in wonderment. “Rhaegar?” She repeated. 

“Y-our voice,” Rhaegar stammered. “It seemed as if it turned into a thousand thousand voices,” another shiver fell down his spine. “The fire,” he pointed over to the small hearth in his fireplace. “It strengthened and grew. Your eyes glowed blue, a sudden wind came across the room, but you did not notice.” He looked around the room. “Gods, you speak true, Elia,” he blinked. “I felt the power. I’ve never felt that in me. Not even as someone who is said to come from magic bringers of Dragons.” Suddenly tears welled in his eyes.

“Rhaegar!” Elia exclaimed in surprise. 

Rhaegar looked to his wife again as the tears fell from his face. “Elia, I’ve fucked up,” he spoke candidly.

Elia’s eyes widened. Rhaegar never used such coarse language. Only when they were having sex, did Rhaegar use that sort of language. 

Rhaegar began to sob. His body shook with the force of his cries. “Ever since I was a boy, I thought I was meant to do great things for this world. Instead I brought the horror to us. Was I meant to do this? I’ve cursed us all,” he cried. 

“Rhaegar,” Elia blinked, shaking her head. She did not know what to do. She had never seen her husband in this manner. But her heart ached. Not because her heart was broken that her husband was crying, but because a friend of hers was in pain. She stood up and walked around to be by Rhaegar’s side. She leaned down and placed her hands on his back, rubbing it. 

Rhaegar wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist, burying his face in her belly, wailing for his wife to hear. He collapsed from his chair and fell to the floor, bringing his wife with him. He placed Elia on his lap and hugged her tightly as he cried into her shoulder. 

Elia took in a shuddering breath and rocked her husband back and forth, shaking her head as she shut her eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks out from behind a wall*
> 
> hiiiii! so so sorry for taking so long for this chapter. i was so stuck on what to write at one point. but now i'm baaaaaaack!!!! i'm here and i'm queer and i'm excited to continue writing!
> 
> let me know what you guys think! and if there's any spelling or grammar mistakes!
> 
> have a happy holiday! whatever you celebrate!


	13. monarchy

Elia moved with her horse as it galloped slowly through the crowd. She plastered on a smile as she waved demurely to the screaming audience. She gulped carefully as she tried to make sure the large crown on her head remained in position as she moved across different levels of ground. So many people cried out her name and threw flowers at her. She noticed that she’d received most of the cheers compared to Rhaegar’s. She turned to her husband, mindful of her traditional Dornish crown and saw him atop his black horse, matching her own black steed. 

Rhaegar was almost resplendent as the sun beamed down on him. He wore a black crown, encircled with rubies and diamonds, and other black gems. He wore a red doublet with black breeches, and along his shoulders was his traditional Targaryen black cloak. It was embroidered with red dragon stitching. He gave a small smile as he waved politely to the crowd. He was no fool. He knew many of them were not happy to see him back. Many preferred his wife to him, and he agreed. Most were only accepting his rule because it meant Elia would be their Queen. Elia had done so much work to make sure that she was well loved in the eyes of the people, and it paid off handsomely. 

In front of the King and Queen were the Kingsguard. Now that Rhaegar was back, its formal name was returned. Arthur and Oswell took up the front. And Jaime, though in front of Elia and Rhaegar, was directly between the King and Queen. It was his place of honor as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. This was his last duty before taking his break. 

Behind Rhaegar and Elia was the royal carriage. It was an open roof wooden carriage, painted in black with red adornments. Queen Rhaella sat in it, with all of the other children, as she held Crown Prince Aegon in her lap. She wore a small circlet, with her son Prince Viserys next to her, wearing a smaller crown. Princess Rhaenys sat on Viserys’s lap, her own crown on her head, as she waved cheerfully to the crowd. She instructed her younger brother, Aegon to blow kisses to the crowd. Many of the commoners grinned and giggled with glee as they saw their future King blowing many kisses and clapping in return. Princess Daenerys was in a small bassinet on the floor of the carriage, next to Jonell the Unnamed, though hidden from the public. 

Behind the royal carriage containing all of the children rode Prince Oberyn on a mighty brown Dornish steed, he wore his own traditional Dornish garb, shining in yellow and orange. His hair was wrapped up in a traditional Dornish turban with chains weaving through the turban to display his own crown. He held a spear to his side and sat without a cloak, showing the commoners, and nobility, the many daggers he contained on his person. Next to him was Prince Doran, staring carefully at their sister. He also wore yellow and orange, though without his own turban. He wore a smaller, less noticeable version of the crown Elia wore. He occasionally rubbed at his beard as he took in King’s Landing for the first time. 

Then came Jon Arryn with his young wife next to him, as his position of Hand of the...King dictated. Ned Stark behind him with his newly given birth wife, Catelyn next to him on her own horse. Then came the Tyrells of the Reach, the Tullys of the Riverlands, the Lannisters of the Westerlands who were led by Gerion and Cersei, and behind them, Robert Baratheon from Storm’s End. He carried his warhammer by his side, as he glared down towards Rhaegar’s head. 

Many people whispered as they saw Robert come down on his steed. It was no secret that he still held animosity towards Rhaegar. No one knew if Rhaegar would punish Robert for attempted king slaying or if Robert would grow impatient and just finish the job of murdering Rhaegar himself. They also whispered about Tywin Lannister’s absence. They all knew he was still in the black cells. And in fact, after the fortnight long celebration of the coronation, his trial was to begin immediately. Many wondered if the Lannisters would take up arms to defend their Lord, and if Robert would send his men to their cause, as they both would be against the Crown at that point. 

The Kingsguard came to a stop at the stairs leading up to the Sept of Baelor. Each Kingsguard descended from their horses and lined themselves up. 

Rhaegar dismounted himself from his own steed, not bothering to use any help. He wanted to make sure _he_ helped Elia off of her horse, not Jaime as the young lion was slowly approaching her. “My Queen,” the returned King held his hand out towards his wife.

Elia gave him a hard look before accepting his help off of her horse. She felt his hands around her waist and she shivered. Not in pleasure, but in anger. Anger that he had to touch her in this intimate way in order to help her off of her horse. She would sooner allow a Tyrell to help her off of her horse than her husband. She watched as the High Septon walked from the doors of the Great Sept, in his best robes for the coronation. Elia took her husband’s outstretched hand as they slowly made their way up the steps to meet the High Septon. 

Rhaegar and Elia stood before the High Septon, not kneeling as they had to stand. The monarchs could not kneel or bow. Not even to the High Septon. 

The High Septon held his hands out towards the screaming audience, requesting for silence. The many people quickly became quiet and soon, only the waves crashing on Blackwater Bay could be heard.

Elia relished in this silence. It had never been this quiet in King’s Landing. _Not since the last coronation most likely,_ she mused. 

“Welcome all, to this most wonderful and joyous occasion,” the High Septon spoke, a smile on his serene face. “Today we officially coronate King Rhaegar, first of his name, and Queen Elia, first of her name.” He paused to allow the crowd to cheer once more. Once they settled, he began again. “Your Majesty,” he turned to Rhaegar. He grabbed Rhaegar’s left hand. 

A Silent Sister came up from behind the High Septon and held out a vial in her hands. 

The High Septon dipped his index finger into the open vial and covered it in the oil. He reached his shaky hand up as he drew a pattern on Rhaegar’s forehead. “I cover you in the oil of the Kings, the oil of the Seven, the same liquid that all Kings of the Seven Kingdoms before you had on their head. This oil is to consecrate you, to charge you to rule faithfully and fairly, to defend our great Seven Kingdoms, to protect your mind.” He dipped his finger back in the oil. 

Rhaegar held out his hands, palm up. 

The High Septon drew another pattern on each palm. “I cover your hands in the oil of conquerors, the oil of warriors, the same liquid that all Kings of the Seven Kingdoms before you had on their hands. This oil is to consecrate you, to make yours hands swift in battle, to defend our Seven Kingdoms from any threat to it.” Again, his hand went back into the oil. He looked up to Rhaegar, who untied his doublet and opened it slightly. The High Septon drew a pattern on his chest. “I cover your chest, and your heart, in the oil of lovers,” he awkwardly glanced a look at Elia, who kept her blank composure. “The oil of empathy, the same liquid that all Kings of the Seven Kingdoms before you on their hearts. This oil is to consecrate you, to care for all of your citizens of the Seven Kingdoms, to love the lands and people, to love your duty.”

Rhaegar took in a deep breath as he closed his eyes and said a quick prayer. He watched as a Silent Sister walked towards him with a crown on a red pillow. His grandfather’s crown. 

  


The High Septon sighed as he smiled softly. He grabbed the crown from the pillow as he watched Elia remove Rhaegar’s old crown. The High Septon placed the new crown on his head. He stepped back, nodded and smiled. “Turn,” he gestured his hand out. “Rhaegar of the House Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!” He proclaimed loudly. “Your Majesty,” he bowed his head and bowed deeply.

Rhaegar took in a deep breath, turning to the loud and screaming audience. He held his hand up, waiting for their silence. “Thank you. I do not take this responsibility lightly.” He turned to the High Septon. “And now I ask you to consecrate Queen Elia,” he told him.

The High Septon’s eyebrows furrowed. “Your Majesty,” he shook his head. “This is only for Kings,” he gestured to the oil. “It permits you as an overall ruler. Queens...do not get to be consecrated,” he looked towards Elia apologetically, his body tensing up. 

Rhaegar gave the High Septon a careful look. “I know that, your Grace. However, I intended to make Elia equal ruler and commander by my side. You have seen her abilities in the past few months while I was away. She is more worthy than so many of our past Kings who were consecrated with that same traditional oil. Please consecrate her,” he told the High Septon. 

  
The High Septon gave Rhaegar a happy smile as he let out a breath, relaxing his shoulders. “Finally,” he chuckled as he looked up towards the high skies. 

Elia furrowed her eyebrows, tilting her head at the religious figurehead.

The High Septon leaned in. “We were hoping to keep you as a ruler, but didn’t let ourselves believe it. Kings enjoy their power too much. I must thank the Seven once again for allowing Rhaegar such wisdom to have you rule by his side,” he smiled.

Elia gave the High Septon a demure smile. _Allowing_ _Rhaegar?_ She thought to herself. _Rhaegar would have these Kingdoms split if not for me. Rhaegar did not_ _allow_ _me to be joining ruler; he knew I was more capable than him._

“Queen Elia, if you may,” The High Septon continued as he gestured to her to stand in front of him. He repeated his ritual on Elia’s head, hands, and heart. As he finished, he gave Elia a bright smile. He gestured towards another Silent Sister to walk forward. 

The Silent Sister had a crown on her held pillow. The High Septon smiled as he took the crown. 

Rhaegar carefully removed Elia’s crown from her head, mindful of her hair and her veil. 

The High Septon gently placed her new crown on her head. 

He stood to face the crowd once more. “It is my privileged pleasure to announce, Elia of the House Targaryen, first of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!” He proclaimed. “Your Majesty,” he bowed his head. “I present to you; ruling and reigning monarchs _together_ ,” he stressed. “King Rhaegar and Queen Elia!” He announced. 

The audience grew to deafening decibels as they realized Elia also received the same consecration that Rhaegar did. They began to chant Elia’s name and threw flowers towards where she was standing. 

Rhaegar gave his wife a sad smile. “The people love you far more than they will ever love me,” he nodded towards the crowd who didn’t even spare a look in his direction. 

Elia smiled, still waving at the crowd. “I know,” she said confidently. 

\----

Elia sat at her dias, watching as many men lined up, ready for the coronation tourney to begin. She smiled as Wylla and Marye, the peasant’s daughter that was newly hired by Rhaenys, approached her with Rhaenys and Aegon in their arms. 

“Mama!” Rhaenys cheered as she saw her mother, her arms were outstretched as she jumped excitedly in Marye’s arms, but mindful of the pregnant belly the woman had. 

“My anani,” Elia smiled as she stood, gently grabbing her daughter from the woman’s arms. She nuzzled her nose against her daughter’s. 

“Pretty crown, mama,” Rhaenys bit her lip as she touched one of the red gems on her mother’s crown.

“You’ll have one soon, love,” Rhaegar leaned over and whispered, as he grabbed his son from Marye. 

Aegon whined slightly, not being used to his father’s arms. 

Rhaegar suddenly looked sad as he saw his son’s arms outstretched towards his mother. This was his price to pay. He chose to leave his family, and now his son barely recognizes him. “Shh,” he rocked his song gently. He hummed the song he always did when Aegon was first born; the song of ice and fire. “I am your Kepa,” he spoke the Valyrian word for father. “I know I have been gone, but I no longer will be from your life. I promise,” he whispered against his son’s downy white hair.

Elia blinked slightly as she saw Aegon finally begin to quiet down in his father’s arms. She turned to the nursemaids. “And the other children? Daenerys and Jonell?”

Rhaegar tensed at the name of his second son. 

Wylla chose to ignore the king. “Rhaella presumed that Daenerys and Jonell were too young for tourneys. The loud noises and dirt clouding in the air might compromise their health. Both of the babes’ health is still ever so delicate. Daenerys from her stormy birth, and Jonell from his troubled birth.”

Elia nodded. “She’s right. Make sure to give the children hugs and kisses from me. I wish to be with them along with all of the children,” she tickled her daughter’s belly. “But alas, my duty is here,” she playfully rolled her eyes. 

“Of course, your Majesty,” Marye and Wylla curtised in unison as they walked off. 

Rhaegar cleared his throat. “Daenerys and...Jonell had troubled births?” He has a hard time saying his son’s name. 

“Yes,” Elia turned to her husband. “Rhaella was on a ship during a terribly stormy night near Dragonstone. They barely survived. Daenerys thrives in warmer climates. During rainy nights, she gets tense and cries all night. LIke she knows how close to death she was during a storm,” she whispered more to herself. “I’m surprised you’re asking about Jonell. You never cared to mention his existence before,” she raised an eyebrow. 

“I love Jon-Jon!” Rhaenys clapped her hands. “He lets me hold him and he doesn’t cry!” She smiled brightly. “When I hold Aegon, Egg gets fus-futh-futy--” she struggled with her words.

“Fussy,” Rhaegar supplied as he smiled at his daughter. 

“Fussy!” The young Crown Princess cheered. “Jon is sooooo quiet.”

Elia smiled down at her loving daughter and placed a kiss on her head. “Jonell was in the wrong position during Lyanna’s labor, and it complicated matters. He is a healthy babe, but he hardly cries. Though a blessing for most people, it is hard for myself or any of the nursemaids or Rhaella to know what is wrong with him,” she frowned. “We tried to make her labor as painless as possible but we were still forced to turn Jon,” she used the nickname her daughter gave the young babe. “In her womb.”

Rhaegar hissed, shaking his head. “I had...no idea.”

“You never bothered to ask,” Elia replied quickly, giving him a hard stare. She shook her head. “It’s time for you to announce the final tourney,” she gestured to the crowd as the trumpeteers began their music. 

“Join me,” Rhaegar told his wife. “We must be a consolidated power. You rule alongside me; this is your duty too,” he jested, trying to lighten the dark mood they now found themselves in. 

Elia took in a deep breath, standing with Rhaenys still in her arms. She followed her husband towards the small platform next to their shared dias. 

Being mindful of his son right on his chest, Rhaegar gestured for the large voice amplifier. Once it was in front of him, he leaned closer. “And now, as we wrap up this coronation tournament, the final battle; the Joust!” He paused to allow the crowd to cheer loudly. “In this final round, we will have the competitors of: Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard,” he took in a sharp inhale at everyone’s loud cheers for the Young Lion. “Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword in the Morning, of the Kingsguard, Lord Garlan Florent of the Reach, and,” he took in a deep breath. “Lord Robert Baratheon of Storm’s End,” he carefully spoke that last name so that he wouldn’t show his anger within his speech. 

Murmurs across the crowd occurred as Rhaegar said Robert’s name. No one knew why Robert Baratheon chose to enter the lists, but most saw it as him trying to make a point against Rhaegar. 

Rhaegar closed his eyes and then began again. “The judges have decided in the order of the jousts,” he was handed a small piece of parchment as his eyebrows raised. “Ser Jaime Lannister will go against Lord Garlan Florent, as Ser Arthur Dayne will joust against Lord Robert Baratheon. Champions, you are free to receive a Lady’s favor of your choosing.”

Lord Garlan moved his horse over to the Tyrell box and gently laid his lance on the platform. “Lady Alerie Tyrell, you are my dear cousin as well as Lady of the Reach, I bid you for your favor.” He smiled as she placed her forest green ribbon and tied it on his lance. 

Jaime took no hesitation, he quickly galloped his horse over to the Royal platform. He placed his white lance directly in front of Elia. 

The crowd again began to murmur, their eyes jumping between a smirking Jaime, a smiling Elia, and an incensed Rhaegar. Was this another Harrenhal? Did Jaime win the heart of Elia? Was Elia cuckolding Rhaegar? Is this a plot from Tywin? What happened between the Lion and the Sun during their time in captivity during the war? Many similar whispers flew across the large plot of land dedicated for the tournament. 

Jaime chuckled under his breath, ignoring the whispers. “Queen Elia, you are by far the fairest in all of the Seven Kingdoms. You are a fair and just Queen, with pure kindness in her heart. An image of the Mother, an image of your ancestor Nymeria. I bid you for your favor in this tourney,” his emerald eyes glimmered with playfulness as he smirked at Elia. 

Elia gave him a large grin as she threw her head back and laughed. “Of course, brave Jaime,” she stood and removed her red ribbon that she had around her neck. She placed Rhaenys down quickly as she leaned forward and tied the ribbon around his lance. “Be safe, Jaime,” she whispered under her breath. 

“Always, Elia,” Jaime gave her a wink. “Princess Rhaenys,” he bowed playfully towards the young girl.

Rhaenys giggled as she hid her face into her mother’s skirts. Her face heated up with a blush, but her skin color did not allow the blush to appear.

Rhaegar clenched his jaw, but said nothing. 

Arthur glared down at Jaime as the young man returned to his place in line. He took in a deep breath as he too galloped toward the Royal box.

The crowd again gasped.

Arthur placed his lance in between Rhaegar and Elia. “Your Majesties,” he nodded respectfully. “I owe you an apology.”

Elia and Rhaegar comically had the same expression of confusion on their face. The crowd again whispered amongst themselves.

“I allowed the Princess Rhaenys to have an extra blood orange candy during your coronation ball,” Arthur gave the small Princess a grin. He was trying to get back in her good graces. He’d missed the young girl calling for her Sword in the Orning. 

Rhaenys gave a small giggle as her parents smiled in relief. The crowd let out a small aw. 

“So I bid your apology as well as to ask the young Princess for her favor,” Arthur said. 

Rhaenys blushed and curled into her mother. “Can I, Mama?” She looked up to Elia. 

Elia nodded. “Of course, my love. If you want.”

  
Rhaenys nodded vigorously. “Yes, please!”

Elia stood and guided Rhaenys over to the banister. She lifted her daughter to sit on the banister while holding her tightly to make sure she did not fall. She watched as Rhaenys removed her small white ribbon from her hair and sloppily tied it to his lance. Elia laughed as she used one hand to tighten her daughter’s lance.

Rhaenys gestured for Arthur to come closer to her. Once he did, Rhaenys quickly gave him a peck on the cheek as she looked down, blushing as her face did not show it. “Thank you, Artur,” she mumbled into her mother’s chest, mispronouncing his name. 

Arthur gave the Princess a smile as he looked up at Elia and gave his Queen a sad smile. 

Now it was Robert’s turn. He moved his horse along as he circled the small section given for the joust. The crowd was silent as they waited to see who’s favor he was going to ask for. He glared at Rhaegar and Elia as he made his horse pace back and forth in front of them. Finally he stopped in front of Elia, much to everyone’s surprise. 

“I don’t need a favor,” Robert’s gruff voice was loud throughout the silent arena. “I don’t need flowery words to convince anyone to give me their favor,” he stared sharply at Rhaegar before tightening his horse’s reins and going back to his place in line. 

Rhaegar cleared his throat, shaking his head at Robert’s words. “Ser Jaime, Lord Garlan, take your places.”

\----

After the two jousts, it was just down to Jaime and Robert. Unsurprisingly, Jaime defeated Garlan. However it was a shock when Robert Baratheon unseated the great Arthur Dayne. It turned out that Robert had weighted lead at the end of his lance. It wasn’t an illegal modification, as if the champion can wield the heavy weight of the lance, then the weighted lead was allowed. Many people were now betting heavily on Robert’s side.

“Lia, any bets?” Oberyn whispered in his sister’s ear as he grabbed a sleeping Rhaenys from her. 

“Oberyn, you know I don’t bet,” Elia gave her brother a mocking look. She lifted her hand to smack his chest, secretly dropping 50 gold dragons into the pocket of his doublet. “ _Leo_ ,” she grinned, using the Rhoynish word for lion.

“Of course, dear sister,” Oberyn kissed the top of her head as he took Rhaenys with him. 

“What do you think Robert will ask for?” Rhaegar leaned over. It was a coronation tourney tradition that whoever won their list could make one request within reason, and the new King shall grant him his wish. Edmure Tully won the archery list and his request was permission to be able to reconstruct an old dilapidated castle in the Riverlands. The wrestling melee was won by Baelor Hightower. His request, after staring deeply at Elia, was new armor for himself and his son and new bolts of fabric for his wife and two daughters. 

Rhaegar was displeased at Baelor’s stares at his wife. “Is there no man in the Kingdom who does not make eyes at my wife?” He whispered over to his closest friends, Arthur and Jon Connington. He was jealous. And he was a hypocrite. And he knew it.

“I don’t see why,” Jon Connington sneered. The rooster never liked Elia. Well, Jon Connington never liked anyone who was besotted with Rhaegar. His commentary of Lyanna was worse. 

“Elia is a beautiful woman, and her strength during the Sacking only amplifies her beauty. She is fortuitous and brave, bold and brash. There is a reason the barbs are beginning to sing songs of Nymerelia; as Elia is clearly a descendant of the warrior queen. The men see her qualities as a good woman to have by their side, a good mother to children, and a fair person to have in council. Any man would be lucky to have her by their side,” Arthur spoke, his eyes on Elia. He did not question his words in front of his King. Rhaegar knew the history between the Sword in the Morning and the Princess of Dorne. 

Once upon a time, Elia and Arthur shared a love. They shared kisses, and they held hands; the sweetness of a first love. Arthur made a promise to Elia; that he would convince her mother to allow them to be married. He promised that he would not forsake her, nor choose anyone or anything over her. But Arthur also wanted to make his stern father proud; the title of Sword in the Morning had not been given to any of the males in the Dayne family in years. Arthur was determined to be the one to carry on the Dayne legacy. 

And he succeeded. He trained hard and daily, with Elia’s shining and proud eyes upon him, he only became better. On his days of doubt, Elia gave him confidence. She believed in him from day one, when no one else did. And once he became Sword in the Morning and finally wielded Dawn, he broke his vow to her. 

He chose something else over her. He chose the Kingsguard. The Kingsguard was a legendary group of men. The highest place a man could achieve to be in; save being a King or a ruling Lord of one of the Seven Kingdoms. And since Arthur could become neither, he chose the Kingsguard, hoping to further make his father proud. He had also hoped that due to his friendship with Rhaegar, that Rhaegar would free him from his Kingsguard vows and let him be with Elia. It was a long shot, but he was willing to try.

Elia was incensed. Though she understood his reasoning, she also understood that Aerys was not going to be normal again. He would always be mad and become even madder. Kingsguard was for life. In Arthur’s folly to make his family proud, he forsook his vow to his first and only love. And she never forgave him. 

The next thing Arthur knew, Elia and Rhaegar were betrothed. 

And he has lost his love. Forever. 

It was even harder than any of his training, to watch Rhaegar fall into his prophecies and abscond with Lyanna. But he had to follow the King he chose, the King he believed in. He tried to convince Rhaegar to not do it; that his two children were enough. But Rhaegar had the same mad glint in his eyes when he spoke of the prophecy that Aerys had his entire life. He stood guard and protected Lyanna as he knew Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon were trapped in King’s Landing. He never forgave Rhaegar for making him make that choice, and Rhaegar knew it. Arthur refused to say Lyanna’s name or even look at her. And Rhaegar, if only to keep _one_ true friend that _wasn’t_ in love with him, allowed it. 

Arthur shook his head, clearing his thoughts from painful memories. He shared a knowing look with Rhaegar who had the nerve to look down in shame. “She is the best of wives, best of women, and already is the best of Queens. And she will only become better with time. That is why many men, and women, stare at her. They sense the goodness within her. It is her magic,” he finished. 

Jon Connington sniffed, returning his eyes back to his book that he contained on his lap. 

Rhaegar’s mind returned to his wife’s side, waiting for her response. “Do you think he will ask for...Lyanna back?” He spoke carefully. 

Elia tilted her head, looking up at Rhaegar. “What makes you think Jaime will lose?” She raised her eyebrow. 

“As much as I hate Robert,” Rhaegar sneered. “He is a formidable fighter and has the heavy modification on his lance. Jaime will be unseated by the first round, if not the second.”

“I wouldn’t count Jaime out just yet,” Elia smirked. 

\----

“Begin!” The bellow from the crier echoed through the arena. 

Yells from the crowd could be heard as the two men kicked at their horses to charge towards one another. 

Robert aimed his lance towards Jamie’s upper body as Jaime chose to aim his lance to Robert’s lower body. 

As they crashed together, both men groaned in pain. Jamie’s helmet fell off as Robert pressed his hand to his hip, the breeches becoming wet with blood. But both men remained on their respective horses. There was going to be another joust. 

Jaime’s attendants walked over to his horse and checked in on him. 

Elia couldn’t hear anything but she could see Jaime shaking his head. He put his hand to his head and gestured to his eye which was quickly becoming closed. Elia cursed under her breath. Robert’s heavy lance hit Jamie in the right side of his face. She knew he would have a black and swollen eye, an immense headache, and bruising for about a week or more. She turned her head to see Robert cursing loudly as he drank from a vial, milk of the poppy, Elia presumed. He snatched some cloths from Stannis, his brother, who was his attendant and placed it on his left hip. Jaime drew blood, Elia grinned. This joust _was_ to first blood, but Elia could see Robert trying to hide it. 

“The champions will joust once more, until first blood or until one is unseated from his horse,” the crier yelled out. “Champions, when you’re ready; to your positions!”

Jaime shook his head once more and kicked his horse over to walk back to his side. Since his helmet was crushed by Robert’s lance, he went without one. 

Robert galloped over to his side as well, ignoring the protests from his brother. He still had his helmet, and his heavy lance.

Elia was tense. Jaime was massively unprotected. She knew she had to do something. Her breaths came in rapidly as her panic began to grow. She leaned over and grabbed her son from Rhaegar’s arms. She needed to ground herself and her children always did that for her. 

“Elia, are you okay?” Rhaegar asked her as he gently passed over his son.

Elia shook her head, placing her lips on Aegon’s head and kissed his downy hair. She looked between Jaime and Robert, trying to figure out what to do. 

“Champions ready?” The crier bellowed.

Elia shook her head again. 

Jaime nodded as he lowered his lance, his eyes narrowing at the Lord of Storm’s End. 

Robert yelled his acceptance, lowering his helmet and his lance. His lance was pointed again towards Jaime’s upper body, most likely his face. His face had an expression of anger, and of revenge. 

“Joust!”

_No!_

.

.

.

Time seemed to slow down. Elia looked around her as everything was slow. She blinked and moved her arm. She was moving at a normal speed. She looked at her husband who was in the middle of a blink. She looked up towards the sky, seeing a bird. She expected it to be moving quickly, but it too was moving so slowly. It’s wings hardly moved. Aegon cooed in her arms. She looked down to see her son staring up at her. He seemed to be moving normally like Elia as well. She turned her head to the Martell royal box. 

Doran and Oberyn were staring confusedly at each other as they took in their surroundings. 

“What is happening?” Doran called out. 

Elia stood up. “You can see me?”

Oberyn nodded. “I think we are the only ones who can.” 

“Aegon is aware as well,” Elia ran her hand through her son’s hair and smiled as he giggled. 

“Only us Martells can see,” Obara called out, kicking her legs happily from her seat next to her father. “Our blood of Nymeria,” she poked her sister who carried the same name. “The blood of Nymeria makes us see!” She cheered. 

“How is this happening?” Doran shook his head as he took in his niece’s words. 

“I think I am doing this…” Elia said to her family. 

“You slowed down time? That is not part of the water magic, Elia,” Doran told his sister. He knew of his siblings' exploration into learning more of their original water magic and supported it. In fact, unknown to his siblings, he had sent an envoy over to Rhoyne to see if they could find more river water of the Rhoyne and to find more Greenbloods to further teach Elia. 

“It might be,” Oberyn mused. “She is slowing down the water all around us.”

“What water?” Doran asked. 

Oberyn snorted. “There is water all around us. I believe the better word would be...moisture. There is moisture in the air with the breeze, moisture in our blood, our skin, our eyes. That is what she is slowing down. Elia can manipulate all types of water, brother. Not just pure water from the Rhoyne. There was a small passage about it in some of the tomes that Nymeisto and I went through,” he rubbed at his beard. “Only the most blessed and gifted of water witches are granted that ability.”

Doran thought about it and nodded his head. “Why have you done this, Elia?”

“I, I don’t know,” Elia’s eyes widened. “I just do not want Jaime to get hurt,” she admitted. “Robert plans to stab his lance through Jaime’s head once more. He will either blind him or take a part of his head. I--I can’t,” she closed her eyes. 

“So do something about it,” Oberyn shrugged. “You had enough energy to slow down time; take your action.”

Elia took in a deep breath, turning her head back to the two men who were still basically at their starting range. She ran her mind through all of the options of what she could do, and she finally settled on a decision. She narrowed her eyes towards Robert’s hip wound. She took in a deep breath and let the words flow through her. “ _Let the blood flow and fall, stain the ground scarlet brown. This man who lies and anger leaps, let his blood and pain feel so deep,_ ” she recited. She watched as suddenly Robert’s hip wound began to blood more profusely. The blood ran down his leg and began to drop on the ground. She was certain he would pass out from the pain and loss of blood. 

“Good job,” Oberyn smirked, nodding in approval. “Now bring the time back to normal.”

Elia nodded, now more confident in her abilities. She tilted her head and lifted her two fingers, swiping them to her right in a swift motion. 

Time restarted, back to normal. 

Elia bit her lip as she watched the riders charge towards one another. Robert’s arm shifted slightly, his lance moving down and to the side. 

_Crash!_

Jaime’s lance hit Robert directly on his chest as Robert’s completely missed. Robert quickly fell from his horse, passing out immediately. 

Jaime spun around, his one eye widening in shock. 

The arena was silent, before bellowing out in the loudest cheers thus far. 

“Your champion,” the crier laughed. “Ser Jaime Lannister!”

Jaime laughed gleefully, kicking his horse to make a galloping circle in celebration. 

Rhaegar pursed his lips as he watched Elia jump from her seat and cheer loudly. She bounced Aegon in her arms as she smiled so brightly. He took in a deep sigh. _This is your lot, Rhaegar,_ he thought to himself. _You betrayed her. You broke your vows. You will never feel the love of your Elia ever again,_ a stern voice spoke in his mind. _I took her love for granted, I took_ her _for granted. I never knew what I had until I lost her,_ Rhaegar mused to himself. He shook his head, standing and applauding the joust champion. 

Jaime rode to a stop in front of the royal box.

“Congratulations Ser Jaime,” Rhaegar spoke. “You do the Kingsguard proud,” he nodded. “As tradition in coronation tourneys, each winner of every event gets to choose one request, within reason, of your King and your King shall grant it. Have you decided on your request, Ser?”

Jaime nodded, quickly glancing at Elia. “Yes, I have, your Majesty.”

Rhaegar tensed as he caught the glance that Jamie and Elia shared. He knew he wasn’t going to like his request. “You may make it now,” he spoke in clipped tones. 

Jaime smiled, his teeth shining brightly, eyes glowing with mirth. “My request is simple,” he spoke softly, but confidently.

“I wish to be released from my Kingsguard vows.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting this while at work to be able to have this up for you!
> 
> i know you guys didn't like the last chapter, but my view is that while yes, elia was betrayed by rhaegar, elia still has a love for him. he is the father of her children. but this doesn't mean she is forgiving him. i have hugged my abusers, people who have betrayed me and abused me. but it didn't mean i forgave them. i am just an empathic person; and i view elia as that same empathic person. 
> 
> please enjoy this chapter. have a happy holiday!
> 
> ps i had better crowns but i forgot to save the image addresses, so we just have these ones lol


	14. lions

“You are your father’s son,” Kevan Lannister grinned proudly as he patted his nephew on his back. “King Rhaegar respected your request and freed you from your Kingsguard vows. Now you are free to return as your father’s heir. Brilliant.” 

Genna rolled her eyes at her older brother. “You idiot,” she hissed. “Tywin is to die. For all of his intelligence and slyness, he fucked up. He left a note about the Mountain’s actions. Jaime is essentially Lord of Casterly Rock now,” she narrowed her eyes at her nephew. 

“Father will not die,” Cersei hissed. She sat next to her twin brother, trying to place her hand on his thigh, but she frowned as Jaime flinched away from her. “He will make his way out. He always does.”

Genna again rolled her eyes. “I know you think Tywin as the smartest person in the realm and at one point, he was. However, he put himself in this mess,” she shook her head. “He sent the Mountain and his hounds to kill Queen Elia and her children and he wrote the message in his own hand. Albeit, it was a coded message,” she ran her hands through her blonde tresses. “But the Mountain was meant to kill Elia. However, the Martell Princess must have some of her brother’s viper tendencies as she stabbed and killed Gregor. The maesters found poison in the dagger she used,” she explained. “And Elia found the note in Gregor’s pocket. She recognized Tywin’s hand as she had seen his letters both growing in Dorne as well as advising her husband in these matters. Tywin is as good as dead and the Lannister name has now been sullied. All of your father’s actions, ruined by one small sentence,” she seethed. “He was too confident that Rhaegar would die by Robert’s hand. And he was mistaken. And now he will pay for it.”

Jaime watched his family argue in silence. He was back to wearing crimson and gold. His house colors. It felt...odd, wearing his colors once more.

“Jaime is friendly with Queen Elia, and she has been given ruling power,” Kevan mused as he sat behind a desk. “Perhaps he can convince the Queen to be easy with our family. That Tywin acted on his own accord.”

Cersei sneered. “A Lannister bowing to a Martell? Never,” she shook her head. She hated the closeness that Elia and Jaime shared. She had seen the looks that her brother gave their new Queen. He had never looked upon her in that way. And Cersei was jealous. Elia was a Queen where Cersei was just a lady. With Elia under Oberyn’s care, the Queen filled out handsomely and she was vivacious, curvy, and healthy. 

“Technically Elia is a Taragaryen,” Jaime opened his mouth for the first time. “She is married to Rhaegar, and is his legal wife,” he reminded his sister. Cersei still had her unrelenting lust over Rhaegar.  _ No, not Rhaegar...over the crown, _ Jaime reminded himself. 

“I don’t care!” Cersei jerked her head over to her brother. “A snake under the cover of a dragon is still a snake,” she raised her eyebrow. 

“Cersei, Jaime must appeal to Elia as Lord of Casterly Rock,” Genna told her favorite niece softly. “We must treat the Queen with respect. Even more so now with her ruling power. We must be her gracious friends, sweet one. To sway her to our benefits. To have Lannisters back at court, and Jaime as Lord.”

“I don’t want it,” Jaime told his family. He carefully shared a look with Tyrion who sat in the corner, his head in a book. But he knew his little brother was listening. Tyrion always listened. Information was power for a dwarf, the youngest Lannister once told Jaime. 

The room froze and filled with tension. 

“What? You don’t want to appeal to Elia?” Kevan asked, purposely missing the point. “You must, Jaime. You are Tywin’s firstborn son.”

Jaime shook his head. “I don’t want to be Lord of Casterly Rock, or the Warden of the West,” he clarified.    
  


Genna’s eyes tensed. “It’s your birthright,” she said with clenched teeth. 

“And I want to set it aside,” Jaime shot back to his aunt. He stood up quickly, standing behind his chair and grabbing the back of it roughly. “I’ve seen the world of politics and the secrets it holds. The betrayals, the agreements, the planning, the unspoken murders,” he shook his head. “I’m not made for that. Cersei was the one who listened to Father. I was more focused on becoming a knight. I do not want my father’s seat,” he repeated. 

Cersei too stood up, slapping her twin across the face. “How  _ dare  _ you?” She hissed. “Our house will become the mock of the Seven Kingdoms with Tyrion as Lord,” she threw her hand back to her younger brother. “Your duty is to be Lord.”

Jamie threw himself in front of Cersei’s face as his eyes darkened. “Fuck these game of thrones you all play. It is not worth it. Fuck the Kingsguard, fuck honor, fuck it all,” he sneered. “I was forced to stand by and listen to the Queen Mother Rhaella be raped and murdered nightly. I was forced to accept the smell of burning flesh all because a lower lord  _ disagreed  _ with Aerys,” he spit at the floor at the mention of the Mad King. “I watched spies whisper so many things in Aerys’ ear and for all of his hubris, Aerys believed it all, even as they contradicted each other. I watched Aerys insult the Princess Rhaenys, belittle and abuse the Queen Elia as Elia, her children and I were his hostages,” he hissed. “While your beloved Rhaegar left to set aside his marriage vow and fuck a pup and fight in a war for nothing,” he did not want to mention the prophecy, lest his family spread the rumors and try to unseat Rhaegar, which would only cause them to turn their rage towards Elia and suspect little Aegon of being mad. Jaime continued. “Don’t you dare fucking tell me what duty is, because for all the duty in the world, no one in these godforsaken seven kingdoms have a bit of understanding of true duty,” he breathed heavily as he finished his speech. 

Jaime stared at his family, taking in all of their expressions. “Let Tyrion be lord. He will make a fine better one than I will ever make. He studies his books daily.” And with that, he left his family amongst themselves. 

\----

Jaime sat in his new quarters, thankfully only just down the hall by Elia. His walls were still bare, but he had sent a servant, one of Elia’s new birds from her spy networks, to gather decorative pieces and furniture he needed. He sat on the one wooden chair that was near his balcony. His balcony doors were shut, not wanting to hear the bustle from the crowd of King’s Landing. 

He heard a knock coming from a wall and he stood, following the noise curiously as it didn’t come from his door. He followed the knocking up to a bookcase. “What in the Seven Hells?” He muttered. 

  
“I’ll be there soon if you don’t open your bookcase,” he heard Elia’s voice mutter from behind the bookcase.

“Elia?” Jaime’s eyebrows flew to the top of his head. “How?”

Elia sighed. “Knock on the golden book twice, pull the red book once, and stoke the spine of the large green book to find the button on its bottom,” she instructed. 

Jaime did as he was told and he was surprised to see his bookcase crack slightly. 

Elia pushed open the secret door that was disguised as a bookcase and smiled upon seeing Jaime’s face. “Hello,” she giggled at his dumbfounded expression. “The birds told me about the many secret compartments they used for Varys. There are so many of them,” she looked comfortable as she sat on his bare bed. “This was allegedly used as a paramour’s room. I believe one of the former Queens had a lover, and brought her here.”

“Her?” Jaime was surprised. 

Elia gave Jaime an obvious look. “Yes, her. You’d be surprised how many former Kings, Queens, and high Lords took someone of their same gender as paramours.” 

Jaime let out a chuckle. “I suppose Sunspear has many of them for your brother,” he grabbed his chair and placed it by Elia. 

Elia laughed melodically. “No,” she shook her head. “Oberyn just prefers to do it out in the open. He cares not for the opinion of others.”

“Right you are, dear sister,” Oberyn opened Jaime’s door and quickly shut it behind him.

Jamie let out a playful groan. “Will I never be free from the crushing grasp of vipers?” He jested, his eyes full of jest as he looked at Elia. 

Oberyn jumped into Jamie’s bed, laying on it next to his sister. He placed his arms behind his head as he crossed his legs. “Oh brother of my heart, that will never happen. We have placed our venom in your blood and you are one of ours now.” 

Jaime was honored by Oberyn’s new title for him. The youngest of the Martell siblings was the hardest to win over, for anyone. Oberyn only loved his family and that was it. He gave everyone else the stern stares of a sneaking snake. “Unfortunately that may be truer than ever. My family is furious with me.”

“Why?” Elia placed her hand on Jaime’s knee. 

“I told them I do not want to be Lord of Casterly Rock,” he said simply. 

Elia blinked.

Oberyn blinked. Then let out a bellowing laugh. “What a brave lion indeed!”

“Jaime,” Elia whispered. “Why?”

“The burden of responsibilities is so heavy on my shoulders. I already have too much from our horrors in the Red Keep,” he told Elia. His eyes focused on a stain in the wall adjacent from him as he spoke. “I am not made to rule as you were, Elia. I have issues with numbers and letters,” he admitted. “My father knew about it and forced me to read more and he would beat me whenever I messed up my sums and sentences. Because of my lack of skills in writing, I focused more on becoming a knight. I spent less time by his side just to be away from him,” he shook his head. “I’m not fit to rule such a large place. And…” he hesitated, ripping his eyes away from the wall as he looked down in embarrassment. 

“And what?” Oberyn smirked, knowing what might be leaving his mouth. 

Jaime glared at Oberyn.   
  


“Say it, dear lion,” Oberyn laughed. “We all know it,” he teased. 

Elia rolled her eyes and slapped her brother’s chest. 

Jaime sighed, shaking his head. “I told you before Elia, I wish to remain by your side. We are partners forged by the fire of painful memories and trauma. I--I value you,” his tongue choked in his mouth. He wanted to say other words, but he knew it was too fast, too soon. He and Elia both needed to sift through their trauma before possibly ever even thinking of being together.

Elia placed her hand on Jaime’s cheek. “I value you too, Jaime,” she gave him a sad look. 

“And I value my lunch staying in my stomach,” Oberyn mimed a gag. “I shall stand on the balcony and eye a new lover. Please inform me when you two are done with your...softness,” he sneered. He gave his sister and Jaime a playful wink and stood. He made his way over to the balcony and stood on it, closing the doors behind him to offer the two some privacy.

Jaime jumped quickly to speak, wanting to have the first word. “I value you deeply, Elia. Closer than anyone I have ever seen. But I can’t--not while I’m--you’re still,” he stuttered over his words. 

Elia smiled, stoking her thumb against his cheek gently. “I know,” she nodded. “We both cannot move too fast. Lest we allow the fire of our passion extinguish so quickly from our unresolved pain of our horrors,” she said much more eloquently than he would have. 

Jaime nodded. “I do not wish to waste the opportunity for the rare chance inside your heart. But we both are still wounded from the Keep. We must resolve the issues within our hearts and minds first. We need to clear our minds from our nightmares, stop our flinching whenever we smell the waft of smoke in the air, the moment of fear that we each have for a brief second whenever we see Rhaegar’s hair.”

“We cannot move into each other’s arms only for the other to be our savior,” Elia agreed. 

“We must be our own saviors,” Jaime finished for her. He grabbed her hand from his cheek and held both of her hands in his. “That is why I cannot leave your side. I...I care for you deeply, Elia. I love you, though not in the way of lovers,” the yet in the air was left unmentioned. “You are embedded into my soul. But my...guard of you still remains. I still wish to hold you close to know you are well.”

Elia took in his words. She removed her hands and instead sat on his lap. She held his head to her chest, sighing in satisfaction as she felt his muscular arms wrap around her waist and lap. “I wish to have you close as well. But how shall we explain your presence at court?” She questioned. “No doubt people will talk,” she snorted. “They already are after you asked for my favor and gave me the crown and title of Queen of Love and Beauty,” she smiled at the memory of placing Jaime’s flower crown in front of her Queen’s crown. 

“It should have always been yours,” Jaime whispered into her neck. 

Elia closed her eyes in pleasure, hearing such words from his mouth. “They will say you are my consort, that the Lannisters plot. I care not if they think you are my consort, but I care if they say you are only by my side for your family. It will make people become your enemy and try to harm you and I do not want that,” she held him a bit tighter at the thought of it. 

“Let them try,” Jaime mumbled. “Between your birds and girls,” he mentioned the new addition to her spy network of whores from the brothels. “And with your brother remaining a fervent supporter by our sides, no one shall ever get far enough to succeed.”

“But what shall happen to Casterly Rock, will it go to Tyrion?” Elia played with Jaime’s golden locks, so different from the curls of Rhaenys and Aegon, different from the curls of her own hair too. “He would make a fine lord,” she mused. “He is always learning, I’ve been told. Viserys says that Tyrion knows even more about dragons than he does.”

Jaime shook his head. “I know Tyrion, and though he would make a brilliant Lord, he would not want to be one. He wants to be a builder,” he chuckled. “He loves creating art and improving infrastructures. Tis why he studies so much. Although he often takes a break for his favorite subject: dragons,” he smiled at the thought of the letters he and Tyrion shared. “I suppose the Lordship would go to Kevan, the utter dolt,” he sighed.

Elia was silent as she played with his hair. She bit her lip as many thoughts crept through her mind. 

“What is it, Elia?” Jaime removed his head from her chest to look up at her. “I can see the wheelhouse moving rapidly in your head,” he joked. 

“You’ve told me in the past that Cersei has a mind for lordship,” She spoke slowly. 

That was among many things Jaime told her. He also told her about his...less than brotherly relationship with Cersei. At first Elia was disgusted, however it was hypocritical of her to berate him as her good parents were also brother and sister. He had promised her that through his time as a hostage, his mind was opened and changed. He no longer saw Cersei in that way. Especially when she would prattle on and on about how she should’ve been the one to marry Rhaegar and he would’ve never absconded. Never mind that Jaime relayed to her about Aery’s madness and the fact that Rhaegar would’ve left her anyway. Cersei was just too self centered to understand. She only cared about herself and what she could achieve. Just like their father. 

“Yes…” Jaime responded slowly in return. “She would sit with our father and learn by his side. Father wanted all of his children to know how to rule so that when we were in our respective relationships would continue the success of our Lannister legacy,” he lowered his voice to mock Tywin’s tone. 

“Does she lord over well?” Elia asked hesitantly. 

Jaime tilted his head back and forth. “She is harsh, but knows how to play the game in politics. She does not have a kind heart towards the people, though. She is a spoiled rich woman, Elia. A daughter of one of the most powerful men in the Seven Kingdoms. She sees herself as a Princess,” he gave the Dornishwoman a look. 

Elia sighed. “If she was paired and fostered by someone who knew the love of people?”

“If she could...then she would make a great ruler,” Jaime admitted. “But I’m confused, Elia. Are you trying to imply to have Cersei as ruling head of the West?”

She shrugged, choosing not to answer his question. “It’s a thought. Oh Jaime, don’t look at me so,” she laughed. “You know Dorne cares not for any forms of gender inequality. My mother ruled Dorne and ruled it successfully. If Cersei could be softened to love her people, would she make a good ruler?”

“I do not know,” Jaime said truthfully. “I have not seen her for years,” he shook his head. “But you know that the Kingdoms will not accept it.”

“She is the last Lannister available,” she shot back. 

“Not while my uncles live,” Jaime said. 

Elia sighed. She knew he was right. “What if we…” she paused and thought to herself. “If Tyrion does not want to be lord, we shall tell Tywin. We will make him sign a document that Cersei becomes his heir. If he refuses, I will tell him that it guarantees his family’s demise. Yes, he has his brothers, but none are as like minded as he is. His best choice is to have Cersei as his heir and upon her marriage, remaining his heir so that her firstborn son become Lord.”

“Yes, but who would marry my sister and not try to steal the Lannister seat?” Jaime asked. 

“Me,” Oberyn walked in from the open balcony door.

\----

“Are you out of your mind?!” Elia hissed to her younger brother. She watched as he doused his many weapons with his poisons and wore his resplendent Martell yellow. 

“Yes, I am dear sister,” Oberyn chuckled. He grabbed a dagger in his hand before shaking his head. He put it down and instead grabbed a large spear with a large sharp tip. 

“Tywin still has yet to go through his trial or are you an idiot?” Elia threw a towel at him. “You cannot become my champion until he is proven guilty,” she reminded him. 

“I know,” Oberyn smirked, singing his words. He wiped his dagger down with his wet cloth. “But I can place the fear into those Lannisters,” he stroked his sister’s cheek with a free hand. 

“And, and this mess about you marrying Cersei?” Elia huffed. She sat on the bed, clutching her head and chest. “You are to drive me into an early grave, brother. My head and heart are pounding,” she gasped. “You--you--you are every bit the wildcard Mama said you were,” she placed her head between her knees to catch her breath. 

Oberyn grinned widely. “The most highest of compliments you have given me, Lia,” he chuckled. “I am being strategic in proposing that I marry Cersei.”

“How?” Elia whipped her head up to face her brother. “You would be in the lion’s den with no one of trust around you. Let alone the fact that you have your daughters and the Lannisters do not take kind onto bastards,” she shook her head. “No, I cannot allow it.”

“Elia,” Oberyn sat next to his sister, holding her hand. “When we visited Casterly Rock last, we endeared the people to us. We showered the people with gifts, songs, dances, and laughter. I can be one of your spies and relay any information about the Lannisters over to you in the capital. I can also endear Cersei to me. She is a young girl yet; I can temper her own known rage with my own. She has not met a man like me who could face her challenge. Women like her enjoy being challenged but no one around her is brave enough to do so. I can easily seduce her,” he chuckled goodheartedly. 

Elia took in a deep breath. “No. Her family will harm you. No,” she repeated. 

Oberyn rubbed his sister’s back. “After I kill Tywin, they shall fear me. And I would hold their precious lioness in marriage. They would not hurt me; not only because of my poisons, but because they would fear I would harm their Cersei, the wrath that not only Dorne, but the Crown would hold against them? No, the lions would be tamed.”

“Oberyn, I will not subject you to a loveless marriage, nor send you to a land who hold prejudice towards you and hate you. It would make my heart ache imagining you there,” Elia laid her head on his shoulder. 

Oberyn let out a sigh. “In our lives, we all have our lot to deal with. A loveless marriage is the least of my concerns. As long as I can protect you and the children, and make sure no Lannister tries rebelling for revenge, I would do it,” he held her tightly. “I would do it again and again if it ensures that you live happily and safely.”

“We will find another way,” Elia shook her head. 

Oberyn kissed her head. “There is no other way, sister. I am the only sane option. The only option to ensure that the Lannisters stay down.”

“I will find another way,” Elia vowed. 

\----

“Silence!” Rhaegar commanded the murmuring crowd. 

The large crowd was in the Sept of Baelor. Rhaegar and Elia sat on a high dias above everyone else, as was their right as King and Queen. The many high houses sat represented in the crowd as well as many commoners. Many blonde heads filled the Lannister side, ready to defend their Lord. 

Lords Ned Stark, Jon Arryn, Doran Martell, Hoster Tully, Mace Tyrell also sat together on a lower dias, just underneath the King and Queen. They were to be the jury to help decide Tywin’s fate. 

Rhaegar waited until the many voices quieted down before he spoke. “We are here to begin the trial of the former Hand of the King, Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. He is accused of treason in a plot to have my wife, your Queen, and my children, your Princess and Crown Prince as well as future King.”

Many screams from the commoners echoed in the room. 

_ “Murderer!” _

_ “Traitor!” _

_ “Deceiver!” _

Rhaegar held his hand up once more. “Bring in the prisoner,” he sneered.

Arthur and Oswell brought in Tywin, holding him by both arms. Tywin’s leg chains dragged on the floor as he was pulled forward. 

Tywin looked worse for wear. He was in his bright Lannister red, looking every bit of a lion. But his eyes had dark circles and were bloodshot, he was thinner, his hair was unkempt and unwashed, and he had a beard where he never had one before. Many people whispered that he looked much like the Mad King did. 

Rhaegar’s eyes pierced at a man he once looked up to. “Lord Tywin, you stand charged with treason in a plot to murder the Queen and our children. How do you plead?”

“Innocent,” Tywin spoke gruffly. 

“That’s ‘your Majesty’ to you,” Rhaegar gave him a sly smirk. “Fine then. Who shall be your champion for your defense?”

“Myself...your Majesty,” Tywin added as an afterthought. 

“And the Queen’s defense?” Rhaegar turned to Elia.

Elia stared at Tywin carefully. “Myself, your Majesty,” she never took her eyes off of Tywin. 

The murmurs in the room began again. Even Rhaegar was surprised. “Very well,” he waved his hands. “Begin your defense, Lord Tywin.” Grabbing Elia’s hand, he whispered into her ear. “Please be careful, Elia. Tywin is sly with his words.”

Elia gave her husband a smirk. “I was taught by Lorenza; the only person alive who once bested him. Do you really think I need to be careful?” She raised an eyebrow. 

Rhaegar stifled his laugh, then cleared his throat to cover it. 

Tywin narrowed his eyes at the Queen. “There is no proof that I committed any treasonous acts against Princes--”

“Queen,” Rhaegar and Elia hissed out in unison. 

Tywin sneered with all of his Lannister pride. “Queen,” he said begrudgingly. “There is no proof that I committed any treasonous acts against Queen Elia and the royal children.”

Elia raised an eyebrow. “Is not Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides---oh,” she covered her mouth with her hand. “Excuse me; the Mountain That Once  _ Rode _ ,” she sneered. “Your man?” Chuckles could be heard from the gallery as she smirked. 

“Yes, he is my man, but he did not get the command from me,” Tywin shot back. “Someone else must have sent the command.”

“But does not Gregor follow your command and your command only?” Rhaegar tilted his chin up, pursing his lips. 

Tywin clenched his jaw. “Yes, but I found him as a sellsword; they tend to be fickle with their loyalty when large amounts of money are involved.”

“But you are the richest man in the Kingdom, Lord Lannister,” Rhaegar raised an eyebrow. “Who could pay him more than you?” He asked rhetorically. 

Tywin cleared his throat, not answering the question.    
  


“And who would benefit more from mine and my children’s deaths,” Elia swallowed deeply at the memory of what Gregor did. “Than you, Lord Tywin.” She placed her hand on the armrest on her right for stability as she stood up. “You stood to benefit the most from our deaths,” she began her descent down the stairs, looking very much like a snake stalking its prey. 

“There is no way I would have benefited from yours and your children’s deaths, Queen Elia,” Tywin’s nostrils flared as he watched the Martell Princess turned Targaryen Queen stand close to him. 

“Oh?” Elia turned, facing Tywin. 

The disgraced Lord of Casterly Rock narrowed his eyes at the dark skinned woman. 

“Then why is it that many birds sung me the same song?” Elia held her hands in front of her. She had a red lace cape on behind her orange and black dress. It made quite the dramatic effect as it bellowed out behind her and made patterns on the floor from the sun shining on the fabric. “That you, Lord Tywin, waited for the last minute to send troops to King Rhaegar’s side because you wanted to see the outcome?” She took in a deep breath. “If Rhaegar won, you would send your massive armies to the Trident to help against the rebels, and some to relieve the capital. You turned into the Late Walder Frey,” she raised an eyebrow, using the nickname for the creepy lord. “And even Lord Frey managed to send troops before you did,” she blinked serenely. 

Tywin turned red as the gallery began to murmur and some chuckled at him. He would not be disrespected with people who were lower than him. He shook his head. “That i--”

“But some birds, and a surprising young cub,” Elia spun to look at the gallery. “Sung me a beautiful song. If Rhaegar was to meet his end at the Trident, you would offer your beautiful Cersei to Robert Baratheon,” she walked in front of Cersei, inspecting her face carefully. Cersei’s face remained as passive as ever but her eyes were spitting fire at Elia.  _ Her eyes give her away,  _ Elia thought to herself.  _ She must control them.  _ “Because we all know Jon Arryn did not want the throne, nor did Ned Stark. And you could not hold a claim because the war was being held as Robert’s Rebellion, not Tywin’s Treason,” she alliterated easily. 

Tywin’s face dropped as he began to pale slightly. He shifted his eyes to stare hardly at Robert, then to the space where most of his family sat.  _ Which of them has betrayed me? Who has betrayed our family?  _ He thought to himself. 

“So you made an offer to Lord Baratheon,” Elia continued. “If Robert wins, you will send your troops to aid him, but to also take the city. Once you helped to win him his throne, he would marry your Cersei, making her the Queen you’d always promised her to be,” she paused to let the gallery react to her statement. “But there was something in the way; Rhaegar had heirs. And with Robert screaming ‘death to all dragons’ despite him having more dragon’s blood than I,” she chuffed, staring at the large man. “You could offer your services there again, continuing to ensure Robert’s loyalty to you and to make sure you got your daughter on the throne. So you told your dog to murder my children. Any child of Rhaegar’s could rightfully claim the throne and you did not want anyone coming between your blood being King one day,” she spoke matter of factly. 

“But,” Elia took in a deep breath. “You did not have a reason to kill me. Or did you?” She raised an eyebrow. “My marriage to Rhaegar has always been a throne at your side,” she stood directly in front of Tywin. “As Hand of the late King Aerys with an eligible daughter for marriage, you wanted--no,  _ expected _ ,” she shook her head. “Aerys to choose your daughter as Rhaegar’s bride. To make her a Queen as you’d always promised her. To have Lannister blood on the throne. But Aerys chose me as Rhaegar’s bride as I was the only female with the most amount of Targaryen blood that he could find. And you, not able to blame Aerys, blamed my mother. You’ve never liked the late Princess Lorenza, because she was the one person in the Seven Kingdoms who was able to outsmart you. You slighted her when we visited Casterly Rock, and she returned the slight by having her daughter marry the Crown Prince and steal the Queen’s seat from Cersei,” she sneered. She placed her hands on the bench in front of Tywin, staring him down. “So you told your dog to kill me too. A final slight to Lorenza Martell. After all, that is what the great Tywin Lannister does; he ends lives. He ends families. Castamere is the biggest example of that,” she reminded the gallery. She never took her eyes off of his. His eyes were blue. Not the emerald green of Jaime’s. 

“Where is your proof?” Tywin said with clenched teeth.

Elia suddenly gave Tywin a beautiful smile, reveling in the fact that he fell into her trap. “I am so happy you asked that, my Lord.”

Tywin’s face fell. 

“Ser Malery, please come forward with the evidence and our informant,” Elia called out. 

A red haired knight in armor came forward with a piece of parchment in his hand, and with him, a blond man followed behind. He had the look of a Lannister. 

“Do you recognize this man, Lord Tywin?” Elia turned to the man on trial. 

Tywin gave the man a glare that could kill ten men. “Yes,” he hissed. “He is one of my nephews.”

Elia smiled. “That’s right, Lord Tywin. Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Lord Damon Lannister. He is married to an Elia Lannister,” she said. “Lord Damon came to King’s Landing after the news of your arrest. In exchange for offering the Crown information about your...battle plans, we were to offer safety for him and his wife. You see,” Elia turned to the gallery. “At first, Tywin told Gregor to take Elia, but he did not specify  _ which _ Elia,” she stressed. “So the Mountain, who was still at Lannisport ended up raping and brutalizing Lady Elia Lannister, the  _ wrong _ Elia,” she revealed. 

The crowd gasped as Lord Damon lowered his head, shaking it. 

“And she was with child when he tortured her,” Elia shook her head, her hands shaking with rage. “Women and children are frequent casualties of war. They are made into victims as powerful men assume that because they killed a man or two, they are more powerful than they are. So they rape and pillage and brutalize, until the Gods, all of the Gods, strike them down and suddenly they are slaughtered like a pig,” Elia hissed. “Dying a painful death because they thought themselves a god for being in war,” she glared down at Robert Baratheon.

Elia took in a deep breath, calming her anger down. She knew the entire room’s attention was firmly on her. She managed to charm them all, like a snake charms its prey. She continued. “And this parchment, which I recognize to be your handwriting Lord Tywin, as well as many former council members concuring with my assessment, reads:  _ The Mountain shall overtake the Sun and do away with the Dragons that still crawl _ ,” she didn’t need to see the parchment to know what it said. The words were embedded in her memory, tattooing themselves in her mind forevermore. “What does that mean, Lord Tywin?”

Tywin swallowed heavily. “I do not know, Princ--” he let out a breath. “My Queen,” he corrected himself. 

Elia smiled again, a beautiful grin. “If you did not write this note, if you were not aware of its contents and the situation different, what would you presume this coded message to be?”

“I do not know, my Queen,” Tywin repeated, refusing to give her an answer.

Elia let out a laugh. “Alright then,” she grabbed the parchment from Ser Malery and walked over to the small bench containing the jury of Lords. “My Lords Stark, Arryn, Martell, Tully, and Tyrell,” she made sure to look each of them in their eyes. She held back her smirk as she saw the proud expression in her older brother’s face. “I bid you to read this parchment and tell me what you would presume that it means.” She handed the parchment to Ned.

Ned gulped, staring at the evidence in front of his face. “I would understand it to be an order for Ser Gregor Clegane to kill your Majesty and your children,” he spoke, handing the parchment to Jon Arryn. 

“Lord Arryn?” Elia asked. “Can you decipher the code?”

Jon Arryn cleared his throat. “The Mountain in the message is Ser Gregor Clegane as that is the name he is known for. Your Grace is the Sun, as the Sun is part of the sigil of House Martell. And you were also known as the Sun of Dorne,” he said. “The dragons that still crawl are your children, my Queen,” he handed the parchment to Doran. 

Doran took a glance at it, clenched his jaw and fist. “I agree with Lords Stark and Arryn,” he glared down at Tywin, curling his lip and baring his teeth at the old lion. He threw the parchment to Hoster who read it, then passed it to Mace.

“Aye, I agree with that,” Hoster said. 

Mace nodded his head. “Anyone with any comprehension would know what this message is.”

Elia smiled. “And there is also what Gregor exclaimed while he ripped my clothes off,” she turned back to watch the gallery carefully. “What was it?” She mimed. She placed her finger to her lips and tapped it in fake contemplation. “Oh, that’s it!” She laughed. “He said ‘The Old Lion told me to make it fast’, and then later as I pierced my dagger through his chin,” she smirked. “He said ‘Lord Tywin will have your head’, or at least, that’s what I assume he tried to say. His speech was terribly difficult to hear as his mouth was speared with my poison tipped knife,” she reached into the thigh slit of her dress and pulled out a dagger, still tinged with the rust color of blood. She flipped it slightly in her hand. “Have you any rebuttals, Lord Tywin?”

Tywin swallowed deeply as he blinked rapidly. He knew he was stuck. “I demand a trial by combat. May the Gods decide my fate!” He exclaimed. 

Rhaegar who remained a quiet rage shouted. “No Lord Tywin, this is your trial! And you’re lucky I’m offering you this trial as I would have your head on a spike outside your beloved castle for committing this treason,” he hissed, clenching his fist. 

“Husband,” Elia cooed as she turned to Rhaegar. “Let the Gods decide his fate. He is already immeasurably guilty. The Gods shall collect their debt that Tywin owes for his treachery.”

Rhaegar looked at his wife, nodding his head. He did not want to grin, lest his people think he was like his father; enjoying the death of another. “My wife is correct. The best way to allow this decision to come is through the Gods. Lest any Lannister try to take their own revenge against anyone who decided against Tywin,” he glared at the Lannister party. “May the Gods choose the outcome. Who will be your champion, Tywin?” 

“My brother, Kevan Lannister,” Tywin smirked. His brother was an amazing sword. He had trained Jaime. He was sure to beat anyone. 

“And the Crown’s champion?” Jon Arryn asked as no one spoke up. 

Elia nodded up to Rhaegar, standing at the foot of the dias.

Rhaegar smirked, standing to walk down the dias and stand by his Queen. “Ser Arthur Dayne. The Sword in the Morning,” he declared. “And if Ser Dayne wins, it will mean your death,” he raised an eyebrow at the Lannister.

“And if Ser Dayne loses,” Tywin began. 

Elia and Rhaegar laughed, their laughter joining together in harmony and sending a chill down everyone’s spine. “He won’t,” they spoke in unison, placing fear deep in the hearts of everyone in the room. They looked and sounded every bit of the King and Queen that they were.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i wasn't expecting to post this today! this morning, i only had 6 pages written of this and i finished at 13. hahahaha. inspiration just hit me!
> 
> enjoy this chapter guys! hope you guys had a great week!


	15. power

Here they were again, Rhaegar and Elia, sitting on a high dias, overlooking both the small courtfield, but also all of the spectators invited. Elia could see the shores of Blackwater Bay and felt the saltwater breeze flutter her hair and her head veil. She breathed in the smell deeply, knowing that it wasn’t the sweet smell of her river Rhoyne water, but it was still water she could control. 

Sitting amongst the circled stands of spectators were the other ‘jury’ members; Hoster Tully, Ned Stark, Jon Arryn, 

Many Lannisters sat in the stands; in the front sat a nervous Cersei, being held by her Aunt Genna. As Elia glanced over to the Lioness of the Rock, Cersei looked up and gave the Queen a glare that would make anyone shiver. Anyone  _ other  _ than Elia. Elia raised to her challenge and raised her eyebrow at the young girl. She lightly scratched at her jaw, lifting it up to show the scar that Elia now held from Gregor’s violence. Cersei’s eyes widened and looked away. 

Elia rolled her eyes. She looked over to the Martell grouping. Her brothers sat together; Doran, a picture of calm and calculatedness. Oberyn being the very image of his nickname the Red Viper. Obara sat besides her father. Elia thought Obara was much too young to see such violence but Oberyn disagreed. Obara disagreed as well. 

_ “I watched one of Papa’s men kill a beggar who tried to run away with me,” Obara innocently told her aunt. “I have seen death before and it is no stranger to me. And I must prepare for death as I will be death’s helper in battle,” she gave a toothy smile.  _

_ Gods be good, that child was the double of Oberyn, _ Elia thought to herself.  _ Her and her two sisters will be a force to reckon with. Them and any other children Oberyn continues to have, _ she thought amusedly. She did well to keep any smile off of her face. 

Many other High Houses sat in the stands, as well as many commoners of King’s Landing as they were craving blood and justice for the wrongdoings towards their beloved Queen, Princess, and Crown Prince. 

“Bring in the Lannister champion!” Rhaegar yelled, breaking the chatter and immediately silencing the loud crowds. 

Kevan Lannister walked from behind his family’s stands. He was fully armored up, resplendent in the red and gold of his house. Not a sliver of his skin was shown. He was well prepared. He shook his head as he was faced with boos and jeers. 

Rhaegar sneered then rolled his eyes. “Bring in the Crown’s champion!”

Arthur Dayne walked in, only carrying his famed sword Dawn. He usually used two swords in battle, but he was very confident that he would prevail. He wore his regular Kingsguard armor, save the white cloak. He of course, was meant with loud cheers and whistles. 

“Bring in the accused!” 

Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan each had Tywin’s arms. He looked the same, unchanged in his clothes, and unwashed. How the mighty lion has fallen. The two Kingsguard brought him to stand in front of King Rhaegar and Queen Elia. 

“Lord Tywin Lannister,” Rhaegar began. “Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly Rock. You stand here, accused of treason, conspiracy to commit treason, conspiring with high ranking members of the Small Council. Your goal was to murder my wife and children, your Queen, Crown Prince, and Princess should I perish at the Trident. As I and my family live, your goal was not achieved,” he sneered. “You chose trial by combat at the last minute of your trial, and it was granted. Today the Gods will choose your fate. If your champion falls, the Gods have declared that you are guilty and you will be sentenced to death. If your champion succeeds, the Gods see that you are innocent of all charges, and you will be free to return home. Do you understand these terms?”

Tywin glared at Rhaegar. “I do, your Grace,” he said with a biting tone. 

Rhaegar nodded, choosing to ignore the fallen lion. “This bout will be to first blood. Champions to your sides!” Rhaegar yelled. He turned to his wife. “Elia, call it,” he whispered.

“What?” Elia blinked, her mind in the circle of her abusive memory. 

Rhaegar’s eyes softened, knowing where her mind was. “Begin the bout.”

“Me?” Elia asked. 

Rhaegar nodded. “You were one of the victims. It is only right.”

Elia gulped and nodded. She stood up slowly, watching as all eyes turned to her. “Ready?” She yelled. The roars of the crowd filled her ears. She watched as the two men unsheathed their swords. The wind picked up, making her hair flow in the air She looked to Ned Stark, who nodded his confirmation that he too felt it. Her nose twitched as the smell of seawater became stronger. Her eyes turned to the waters of Blackwater Bay. Its waves were violent. “Begin!” She shouted. 

Kevan launched forward immediately, trying to get the upper hand. His hand was swift, slicing and slashing towards Arthur. 

Arthur easily dodged or parried the blows. He decided to allow Kevan to tire himself out. He quickly moved his feet, almost dancing on the gravel. He was going to choose where Kevan went. 

Kevan’s screams could be heard as he continued to try to find an opening on Arthur’s body. 

Rhaegar snorted as he watched the men battle. The clashing of swords filled his ears. The sweet song of fighting made him feel relaxed. It was a familiar noise to him. 

The crowd gasped. Arthur finally made a defensive move, slashing at Kevan’s wrist. 

Rhaegar lifted from his seat, trying to see if the Sword in the Morning drew blood. But Kevan only shook his wrist. But the crowd could see his pale wrist. Arthur had an opening. 

Elia turned her eyes to look at Tywin, trying to gage his reaction. His jaw was clenched and it was as if he hardly blinked. His hands were fisted by his side. His eyes followed the two dueling men carefully and calculatedly. As if he felt eyes on him, Tywin turned his head slowly and his eyes met Elia’s. His gaze was full of rage. But for a brief, small moment...there was regret. Regret and remorse. He held Elia’s gaze, before looking down and slowly bowing his head. That was the only apology she would get. 

Back in the dueling circle, Kevan was panting. Though no one could hear him over the screams of the crowd, if you focused in on Kevan Lannister and concentrated, you could hear his gasps for breath. He was getting tired. 

Arthur became bored. And then went on the defensive. His sword shined through the air in quick rapid movements, being spurred on by the crowd’s reactions. He chose to allow his fury to come forward. He was doing this for Aegon.  _ Slash _ . For the sweet Princess Rhaenys.  _ Slash _ . For  **Elia** .  _ Slash. Slash. Slash _ . He finally had Kevan in a corner. His soul preened at the fearful look in Kevan’s eyes. Arthur’s eyes narrowed at the Lannister. “For Elia. For Rhaenys. For Aegon,” he muttered so that only he could hear. One final... _ slash! _

A loud clatter and thud to the floor. 

A scream.

Gasps from the crowd. 

Another scream. This time pained.

Then…

Cheers. Loud and overwhelming cheers. 

Kevan Lannister’s sword hand was on the ground. 

Arthur sliced Kevan’s wrist with Dawn, and with it, Kevan’s hand was gone. 

Rhaegar let out a breath of happiness. He controlled his face, making sure that it was still a passive Kingly expression. He stood up and clapped his hands. “The Gods have decided!” He yelled. “Tywin Lannister, you are guilty of all charges! Your sentence is death!” 

Cersei screamed, being held back by her crying Aunt. 

Elia’s lip twitched slightly, wanting to smirk. 

\----

Though Tywin Lannister’s beheading was to take place later that day, Elia allowed the Lannister one final moment with his family. Though she had Jaime attend so that he may bid farewell to his father, but also to spy on his family for her. She was in her solar, looking over the many secrets her birds fed her when her brother walked in the room. “Oberyn!” Elia subtly hid her notes underneath her paperwork for her various charities. 

“Your Grace,” Oberyn nodded his head. He held out an unopened envelope to her. “A missive from Balon Greyjoy,” he raised his eyebrow at his sister. “A strange connection, sister.”

“A needed connection, brother,” she responded. “The Greyjoys and the Iron Islanders are always a messy sort of people; they crave war and care not if they lose. They simply care to fight. I must soothe the insult that Balon must feel for not having a representative from the Iron Islands in the Small Council.”

“So you are working to…?” He questioned. 

“Manipulate him,” she said simply. “I also questioned him about his Drowned Gods, which I am curious about though not really,” she rolled her eyes. “I need him to be sweetened by my inquisitions and false beliefs in his people so that their battles are quelled long before they can attempt an uprising.” 

“Perhaps the world would be better if Balon and his lot were rid of,” Oberyn offered.   
  
“Would that I could,” Elia shook her head. “The Iron Islands as part of the Seven Kingdoms has always been a wildcard. Anyhow, I shall read his message. Stay, Oby,” she requested. “I shall be quick and write back even quicker.” She opened the letter.

_ Your Grace, Queen Elia, _

_ I must admit I was taken aback after I read your missive. No one from the Capital tends to write to the Iron Islands unless it is for a command. So when I first received your letter, I grew furious before even reading the contents, believing that it was another order. But once I read your words...my mind was changed. I thought you nothing more than a meek Dornishwoman who took advantage of her husband’s death to crown herself. Though, in admittance, I laughed broadly once I heard you became ruling Queen much to the dissatisfaction of the many conservative Kingdoms.  _

_ It may come as a shock, but many of us Iron Islanders do think of Dorne in a different light than the rest of the Kingdoms. We have...some similarities other than our beliefs in our individual Water Gods. Our freedom to love, and to fuck freely, the way we allow our women to carry weapons if they want. The way we are both ostracized from the rest of the Kingdoms. Though we are of different climates, we are similar in those aspects.  _

_ I also thank you for your condolences on my father’s death.  _

_ As for your...proposition...I do feel a slight as all of the other Kingdoms save for the Stormlands have a representative. However, after seeing your reasoning, I do understand your hesitance. I do not think any Iron Islander would fare well in any of the other Six Kingdoms, save for Dorne, let alone be accepted in them. So I must reject that offer to have a council of Iron Islanders report to a Tully. However, I am willing to welcome discussion for any other ideas you may have. This olive branch may seem as a shock to you, but I must confess I did not decide this. It was our Drowned Gods who did.  _

_ I too find it interesting how both of our Kingdoms have this belief in Water Gods. Though I believe you Dornish just call it Water Magic? After your letter, a spark of curiosity flowed through me and then I was called to our waters. I drowned myself in the waters and my Gods spoke to me. I will not share their exact words with you, as they are sacred to us, but I will offer a summary. My Gods told me to trust in the Mother Sun of the Waters. That she will bring forth a future where we will not be shamed in believing in our Drowned Gods. So that is why I am open to communication with you, my Queen. It is my belief we are distant kin, through our water connection.  _

_ I also have received news that your husband, the King Rhaegar, is returned. I will pledge my fealty to him, but know that my true fealty is you. I will only heed and honor your words. This is the promise my Drowned Gods have bid me to make.  _

_ When you and your lord husband begin your Royal Progress through the Seven Kingdoms, I welcome you to the Iron Islands, and to Pyke. I also welcome you, Queen Elia, in discussion of our individual magical practices. I invite you to bring any priests, maesters, or any person who is consecrated in your Water Gods as I will invite my Drowned Priests. I look forward to seeing what these discussions will bring forth, my water cousin.  _

_ Oh, and do invite your brother Prince Oberyn. I have a want to spar with him. I have heard many stories of his prowess in battle.  _

_ I look forward to your words and your later appearance on our Islands.  _

_ Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands.  _

“Well,” Elia let out a breath. She blinked in shock, not knowing how to react. 

“What is it?” Oberyn walked over to his sister.

Elia shook her head, handing her brother the letter. She watched her brother’s face as he read the Iron Islander’s words, watched as his eyes widened before he let out a loud cackle. 

“Perhaps we have misunderstood the Ironborn,” Oberyn said after he finished his laughter. “They seem as reasonable as I,” he pursed his lips to keep his laughter inside. 

Elia rolled her eyes. “That is why you enjoy Balon’s words; because you both are absolutely not reasonable,” she let out a quick jape, laughing slightly. “Though it is curious that the Ironborn’s own Drowned Gods gave them a message to trust me. Why?”

Oberyn sat on the desk next to his sister. “The Gods are preparing themselves, and us, for a battle. The heavens are working together; the Old Gods, the Drowned Gods, Mother Rhoyne, the Spirits of the Rhoyne, I dare believe that other Gods are involved as well. The Dothraki Gods, the Red Gods. They are preparing their messages to prepare our earthly world for the battle that is to come. This is not a battle that just Westeros has to deal with. This affects our entire world,” he surmised. 

Elia nodded. “Indeed. And if this is so...we must all work together to protect our lives, and the lives of our descendants.”

“Si,” Oberyn agreed. “Our human issues are nothing compared to the will of Fate.”

Elia took in a deep breath, her head beginning to hurt already. 

\----

Though Cersei Lannister pleaded on behalf of her father to have a private beheading, Rhaegar refused her. 

_ “The citizens want to see blood for what Tywin Lannister incurred onto them,” Rhaegar explained. “By his orders, not only was my wife and your Queen almost brutalized and our children almost snuffed out, he brought his men in here to rape and pilage. Many innocent people suffer the wounds brought forth by Tywin. They must see him die. So that they may begin to put to rest their demons.” _

As it was, Cersei and her Aunt Genna refused to watch the beheading. But her Uncles, and Tywin’s brothers, Tygett and Gerion, stayed to watch their brother come to die. 

Elia stood beside her husband, watching as the many citizens of King’s Landing crowded around the makeshift dias that was made earlier that day. Many were screaming insults and waved bloodied clothes in honor of those they had lost during the Sacking. She watched as the crowd became more unruly as Tywin was led out by Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent. Her ears began to ring from the volume of the crowd. 

“The people once loved Tywin and believed him to be their true King,” Rhaegar murmured to Elia. 

Elia watched as the two Kingsguard pushed Tywin to his knees and prepared his head on the block. “Tywin never loved the people as a King should. He only wanted their love for his own advances. But once the people saw how he only saw them as pawns for his own wants, they saw him for who he was; a man who only cared about power, who did not care who he had to step on to get it,” she mused. 

Rhaegar nodded his agreement with his wife before taking a deep breath and carrying on with his duties. 

The skies watched as the white haired man with a crown on his head spoke broadly to the crowd, occasionally gesturing to the older man who knelt behind a block. 

The birds watched as a man dressed in all black with his face covered in a black veil came forward with a large silver and sharp weapon. 

The rats listened as the odd tall creatures screamed louder then went as quiet as they could manage. The rats heard a loud  _ shing! _ through the air and then something heavy fall on the floor. The critters ran away from the tall creatures as they began to become loud again. 

The cement and dirt on the floor absorbed the thick red liquid that was coming from the wooden dias, fertilizing the dirt underneath. 

The people knew. 

Tywin Lannister, once revered Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, was no more. 

\----

Rhaegar sat in a small room with his Small Council, the very men his wife Elia elected. He watched them carefully as his wife sat in the chair across from him. She raised an eyebrow at him as she glanced a look to Varys’s empty seat. She looked back to her husband and gave him a knowing look. 

Rhaegar gave Elia a nod. She had shared with him her distrust of the Essoi and how she and her newly formed web of birds were trying to find information about Varys in order to capture him and get rid of him. Varys was one of the men that Aerys relied on. Varys frequently furthered Aerys’ madness, and for that he must be rid of as soon as it was possible. “Where is Lord Varys?” He questioned. 

Jon Connington, who was only allowed at Small Council meetings as a record keeper, spoke up. “He is with the remaining Lannisters,” he raised his eyebrow. “Gathering their opinions about who shall be successors to the seat of the West.”

Elia let out a hot breath through her nostrils. She rolled her tongue across her teeth then bit at the side of her cheek to keep her words in her mouth. She raised her eyes to meet Rhaegar’s. 

Rhaegar shook his head. “Call for him,” he turned to order Arthur. 

But there was no need, as Varys came through the doors, his smell of perfume burning the nostrils of all he walked past. “I apologize, your Graces, my Lords,” he bowed his head to each person as he took his seat. “I was dealing with personal matters.”

“Personal matters being speaking with the Lannisters?” Elia couldn’t help herself.

Varys paled. 

“You are not the only person who can obtain secrets in this Keep, Varys,” Elia narrowed her eyes at the plump man. 

“I apologize, my Queen,” Varys looked down in shame. “I only wanted to offer my condolences to the Lannisters and to possibly ask their opinions on who shall be their next Lord, if only so that it would make our meeting here easier.”

“Yes, but I did not bid you to do that, Lord Varys,” Rhaegar hissed. “In fact, I commanded all of my Small Council to stay away from any matters regarding the Lannisters unless I have said otherwise, yet you disregarded my orders and decided to make your own way,” his nostrils flared and his violet eyes grew dark with anger. 

Varys flinched at the energy being emitted towards him in the room. He could feel, practically  _ see _ , the waves of anger that flowed from Elia and Rhaegar towards him. “I apologize,” he repeated. “I am used to these sorts of...corner stepping from the late King Aerys. I mean no harm, your Graces.”

Elia raised an eyebrow as she hummed. “Strange how you never did that while I ruled in my husband’s stead.”

Jon Arryn, rightfully feeling the tension in the room build, placed his hands on the table. “Your Graces, my Lords, let us commence this meeting and see who shall have the seat of the West. Have we any suggestions?” He asked the table.

“I think the Westerlings would be a good choice,” Willas Tyrell offered. “They have always supported the Crown and have been staunch enemies of the Lannisters. Perhaps it would be good for the people to see that the name Lannister is stripped from the legacy of the West.” 

Oberyn snorted. “You are forgetting that there are many Lannisters all around the West; any one of them would fight this order and claim their rightful spot. They would argue that the seat of the West has always belonged to a Lannister and it must remain to a Lannister.”

Wyman Manderly nodded his head in agreement. “Aye, I agree. Despite our feelings to the actions of the Lannisters, I believe we all agree as heads of our respective houses that we would not stand for an interloper becoming the new head. The Highest of Houses have always been Targaryen, Martell, Stark, Lannister, and Arryn. Those are the names from our history books that we studied as babes. The original Kings, and Queens,” he nodded his head to Elia. “Of the Kingdoms before the Conquest. Ancient blood rules these houses. Not one remaining Lannister would agree to replace their ancient Kingly blood with another.”

Rhaegar took in the Northman’s words. “You speak wisely, my Lord Wyman. And I must admit, I agree with you. Houses Martell, Stark, Lannister, and Arryn have ancient bloodlines even longer than mine own. And even I would be slighted if this situation fell upon my lap.”

Elia’s snort did not go unnoticed in the room.  _ It almost did _ , she gave her husband a knowing look as she took a sip of her water. “Tyrion Lannister is Tywin’s heir, and he is young yet. We can send someone to Casterly Rock to teach Tyrion and sway his loyalties to the Crown, and therefore the loyalties of the West would be firmly seated with the Crown.”

“Tyrion does not want the seat,” Varys spoke up, albeit nervously. “I have spoken to the child and though he is young, he is incredibly bright for his age.” He looked around the table to gage their reactions before continuing. “He wishes to be a maester or a builder, though his father never permitted him to be. And he knows the people of Casterly Rock, and of the West would not want a dwarf for a Lord. Not to mention the other Kingdoms would think the West meek.”

“A bright child indeed,” Elia murmured, but she already knew this information from Jaime Lannister.

“And what of you, Ser Jaime?” Jon Arryn asked. “You have a right to your rightful seat. And you have made a request to take a break from your Kingsguard duties. I believe the King and Queen would agree with me that you have done your duty to the realm. No one would think less of you if we released you from your oaths and allowed you to return to rule.”

“What? And miss on all of the comings and goings here in the Capital?” His well known cockiness came forward. “Things have just gotten interesting around here, my Lord Hand,” Jaime laughed, a twinkle in his eye. He shared an amused look with Elia, then with Oberyn. “It is true I requested a break from the Kingsguard, but who knows if with that break, I will miss my oaths even more so,” he lied easily. “But no. I have no mind for ruling,” he admitted easily. “My mind is more suited for battle and protection as I have shown with the Queen, Princess, and Prince,” he nodded towards Elia. “Nay,” he shook his head. “That seat; the headaches of ruling...I shall leave that to finer minds.”

Rhaegar’s eyes narrowed as he saw the sly smile grow on Elia’s face. He was no fool. He knew that Jaime and Elia grew closer through their horrors. But he did not have to like it. And he didn’t. However he did not begrudge the Lannister Kingsguard anything. He served his duties well and saved his wife and children. And for that, he would never say anything untowards about Jaime. 

“Then that leaves Lady Cersei,” Lord Varys reminded the Small Council. 

Jon Connington snorted. “A woman ruling? No one would accept it.”

Elia slapped the table and turned her head to the red haired Griffin. “Need I remind you that as the record keeper, you are only here to record what occurs in Small Council meetings and remain  _ silent _ . You are not a part of this council so your comments are not needed. And I also will remind you that I ruled for many moons and I did it well. So did my ancestors Queen Nymeria, Queen Meria, Queen Deria, and my own lady mother, the late Princess Lorenza. When women rule, their people tend to thrive and  _ live _ , my Lord Connington,” she raised her eyebrow at the man, daring him to speak. When he remained silent, muffed at being spoken to like that, she turned back to the table. “Can we trust Cersei?” She asked. 

“Yes,” Varys nodded.

Jaime snorted. “No.”

Elia glared at the Master of Whispers. “Continue Jaime, please,” she gestured for the blond man to speak. 

“Cersei is our father’s daughter,” Jaime began. “She spent more time by his side than Tyrion and I. She learned how to rule by his side. And with growing up alongside our father, she is the image of Tywin Lannister in a woman’s body. She would make a great ruler, yes,” he admitted. “But she would only rule like our father; for her own advances only. And that is not what makes a great ruler. A great ruler cares for their people like their own children,” his emerald eyes looked into Elia’s onyx eyes. “A great ruler would offer their own shelter for their people,” he smiled at Elia before tearing his eyes from hers and looking at the other lords in the meeting. “My sister would not do that.”

Jon Arryn let out a sigh. “Then seating a Westerling as Warden of the West may be our only option.”

“What if it’s not?” Oberyn spoke up.

“Please, my Prince,” Jon Arryn waved his hand, giving Oberyn the space to speak. 

“What if I marry the lady Cersei?” He offered. 

Elia’s nostrils flared with anger.  _ He could not be seriously offering this  _ idiotic _ plan of his? _ She thought to herself. 

Oberyn ignored his sister’s click of her tongue and continued. “It would ensure that the Lannister blood continues as one of the rulers of Casterly Rock, but I would keep an eye on Lady Cersei to make sure she remains in her place.”

“But would not then the West belong to the Martells?” Wyman questioned. “The Dornish would then have two Kingdoms. Any children you and Cersei have would be Martells. And not to mention, that would make you the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms,” he snorted. “A wise move for the interests of Dorne and House Martell, but many houses, including my own, would see that as too much power for Dorne. With no offense intended, my Prince,” Wyman bowed his head. 

Oberyn waved his hand. “No offense given, my Lord Wyman. You are right. But what if Cersei does not take my name?” He optioned. “We name her Princess Cersei Lannister, giving her the royal title as befitting from our marriage, but she keeps her name?”

“Yes, but any children from your marriage would still be a Martell,” Willas pointed out. 

Elia pursed her lips as she thought through the many options. Since her brother was not letting this marriage to Cersei go, she had to think of options. She knew Oberyn wanted to marry Cersei, not because wanted to, but because he wanted to keep an eye on the Lioness of the Rock and any other lion who may try to uprise as retaliation for Tywin’s death. “What if…?” She spoke up. She licked her lips and tried again. “What if we marry my brother to Cersei. Cersei becomes Princess Cersei Lannister, giving her the royal title she always wanted, any children from their marriage would be a Martell, yes. But we marry their first child, which would most likely be a girl seeing as how my brother is incapable of sireing boys,” she laughed. “We marry their first child to a Westerling boy, and they become the new Lady and Lord of the West when they become of age. That way, the Lannister legacy is removed, but Lannister blood still remains in charge, and we have the loyalty of the Westerlings,” she offered. “House Lannister would turn into House Westerling within 20 years or so, but Lannister blood would still remain in their veins.” 

Rhaegar took in a deep breath. “If I may be frank, my Lords Wyman and Willas?” With their nod, the King continued. “I care not if House Martell gains the seat of the west. House Lannister tried to rid the world of their Princess, and now Queen. The Crown owes Dorne a great debt. My father kept Queen Elia and our children hostage for Dornish spears, I slighted Dorne during…” he shook his head. “During the beginning of the war. Not to mention, the riches Oberyn will inherit as Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West can be used to help Dorne. We as Westeros rely on their spices, their fruits, their horses, and their sand for glass. Before my father fell into his madness, he wanted to build aqueducts in Dorne, to increase their growth of their trade as our realm was requesting more and more of it, but Dorne was taxing us greatly for it. And Oberyn can ensure that the gold from the caves of the West is used properly. Politically, it would be wise to have a Martell rule. We tie together the West and Dorne, two Kingdoms who opposed the Crown for their individual reasons.”

Oberyn tapped the table. “Although I am loath to admit it, I agree with the King,” he glared at Rhaegar. “Dorne was speaking of seceding from the Seven Kingdoms,” he admitted. “We are always used for what we can provide for the Kingdoms, but in times of our struggle, none of the Kingdoms come to our aid,” he shook his head. “If I am Prince and Lord of Casterly Rock, you have my word that I will help to make sure the gold goes to places it deserves. To benefit the realm as a  _ whole _ , not as these splintered Kingdoms disguising itself as one whole Kingdom,” he proclaimed. 

Rhaegar watched Wyman and Willas, the only two who were genuinely opposed to having Oberyn as Warden of the West. The two men, one from the North, the other from the Reach, looked at each other, then nodded.

“We agree to these terms.”

“So then how shall it go?” Jon Arryn asked. 

“Since Ser Jaime does not want to be released from his Kingsguard vows, the seat falls onto Tyrion Lannister,” Rhaegar surmised. “If the young Tyrion Lannister sets aside his claim, the seat falls onto any male children of Cersei Lannister’s. Prince Oberyn shall marry Cersei, gaining a royal title; becoming Princess Cersei Martell. Any and all of their children shall be Martells. However, if only female children are born to the two, their firstborn shall marry a Westerling male and House Lannister-turned-Martell shall turn into House Westerling,” he sighed. “Any questions?” He looked towards his table. 

“None, your Grace,” they all nodded in agreement. 

Oberyn flashed a quick wild smile at his sister. 

_ By the Gods, _ Elia thought.  _ Each Martell child is a ruler in their own right. By this marriage, House Martell will be the most powerful house in all of the Kingdoms. Doran ruling Dorne, myself ruling the Seven Kingdoms, and Oberyn ruling the West and in charge of its coins. Mama raised rulers. She will be so proud.   
_

Dorne’s time has come indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry this took awhile! so many changes in my life plus i started writing a modern got au (feat elia of course), AND a oneshot that i always wanted to write. 🤦🏽♀️ someone please stop these plot bunnies in my head. don't worry, magic remains my first priority. but i may post the one shot when i'm through with it and the modern au fic will not be posted until i finish this fic. so it will be a while. i really really want to finish this fic.
> 
> welp! lemme know how you guys enjoyed this fic! less on the magic this time and more of the politics.


	16. command

“Why are you here?” A grief stricken Cersei glared down at Elia and Rhaegar as they stood in her quarters. “Are you here to mock me some more? Are  _ you _ here to continue to disappoint our legacy, and our mother?” She hissed at Jaime, who winced from his place at the doors. “What do you want, your Graces?” The blonde woman shook her head. “You’ve already taken my brother from me, my father, and mutilated my Uncle. The Lannisters will no longer cause harm to the Crown. We’ve seen how fierce the Sun and the Dragon can be,” she sniffed. 

“We are here to discuss the future of your house, and your own future, Lady Cersei,” Elia spoke. She watched the young girl carefully. Gone was the manipulative gleam in her eye, gone was the lust towards Rhaegar that she once held. She was a shell. Elia lifted her chin up, taking in a deep breath. 

Cersei’s eyes met Elia’s. Her breath caught in her throat. “My future? Is you not ruining my family enough? Must you take more from us? From  _ me _ ?” She glanced a look towards Jaime, before looking away and shaking her head. 

“We want to ensure that the bloodline of the Lannisters continues on,” Rhaegar began. “We recognize that the Lannisters are an ancient bloodline. Ser Jaime will father no children as he is committed to staying a part of the Kingsguard, and Lord Tyrion is still too young to decide if he wants a married life or not.”

“Tyrion will not father any children--he cannot, he is just a dwarf,” Cersei sneered, her hatred for her brother spewing out. 

“Do you think that dwarves cannot procreate?” Elia raised her eyebrow. “His condition does not dictate his life. He is small; many small people have had children. The future of your house may still live on through your brother, and of course through you,” she shook her head once again. “I find your character lacking, Lady Cersei.”

Cersei rolled her eyes, turning away from the Queen childishly and staring out of the window in anger. 

Elia let out a sharp breath. “You are in grief so I will allow you to roll your eyes at me this once. But if you continue with this insolence, I will have no choice but to reprimand you, or take away this most gracious offer that we have made for you.”

Rhaegar stood back, allowing Elia to dictate how the meeting would go. He had no idea how to speak with women, especially women who were in tears. That was never his way. Tears only reminded him of his mother’s tears and how he failed to protect Rhaella from his father. He watched the young Lannister carefully. 

Cersei turned back to Elia, her face mocking. “And what, your Grace, is the most gracious offer that you have for me? Whose chains will envelope me and give me a new name?” She sighed, her eyes piercing at Rhaegar’s. “I, of course, will follow my duty, unlike a particular Wolf who thinks she is better than me, better than the two Queens before her who did their duty,” she lifted a perfect eyebrow, daring Rhaegar to deny her.

Elia said nothing, just glancing briefly at her husband. Elia shrugged; there was not much she could say, the girl  _ was _ right. Clearing her throat, Elia looked back at the Lannister girl. “You will marry my brother Prince Oberyn.”

“What?” Cersei was enraged. Her face became pink with anger and her chest flushed red as she tried to keep her voice at bay. 

Ignoring her, Elia continued. “In doing so, you will be made a Princess, and in effect, a royal,” she said, trying to soften the blow. “You will not be moving to Dorne, however Prince Oberyn, and his daughters,” Elia stressed, her eyes boring into Cersei’s.  _ I will be damned if this wisp of a girl denied my nieces of being with their father,  _ she thought to herself. “Oberyn and his daughters,” she continued. “Will be going to Casterly Rock. You will be made Princess Cersei Martell, but Prince Oberyn has said, that if you wish it, you may keep your Lannister name in honor of your family’s lasting legacy; you would become Princess Cersei Lannister Martell, wife of Prince Oberyn Martell of Casterly Rock. Oberyn will be Lord of the Rock and Warden of the West.”

“Funny how the seat and the entire West is going to a Martell,” Cersei sneered. “The Seven Kingdoms is ruled by a Martell--don’t try to object, your Grace, we all know who the true ruler in your marriage is,” the blonde woman spoke frankly before Rhaegar could object. “Dorne, of course, has always been ruled by Martells, and now the West, and all of its gold is now Martell property,” she scoffed. Cersei looked up at Elia. “Are you happy? Your entire family is getting all of the power now.”

Elia shook her head. “Rhaegar going off with Lyanna caused a war; but your father purposely chose to be late to the battle,” she let out a breath. “I understand that in doing so, he was hedging his bets to see who would win. And in the middle of battle, gossip ensued, as it always does, claiming Rhaegar was dead. By your father’s orders, he wished for my babes and myself to die. For nothing more than being Targaryens, and for slighting him when Aerys refused you as Rhaegar’s bride,” her nostrils flared with anger, causing her nose ring that was attached to her earring to shake a bit. It caused a slight chiming noise throughout the room. “If your father never sent the death orders, he would never have lost his seat. If he never ordered the Sacking, he would have never lost the love of the realm. But he did,” Elia shut her eyes and tried again. She grabbed one of the lounging chairs by a vanity and sat it in front of Cersei. “Despite how I feel towards your father, I know what it is like to lose a parent. To lose a family member so viciously,” she closed her eyes, thinking of her mother, her father, her Uncle, and various Dornishmen who perished or lost limbs, their minds. “But my brother is the best option for you. In marriage and in controlling the West,” she looked at the young girl. “In Dorne, we do not harm girls. Or women. We do not harm anyone who does not harm us first. We do not judge the children by the sins of the parents.”

Cersei sniffed, closing her eyes. “Then why does this marriage feel like a punishment?” She asked. “Queen Elia, I know the hatred Prince Oberyn has towards Lannisters; many suspected that if my father was not to die from the Crown, that the Red Viper would make his presence known with his poison. How am I to know I will not be brutalized? That the West will not lose its power?” Now that Elia spoke to her calmly, the fierceness of Cersei was gone. The anger towards her father’s death and her family’s fall from grace was gone. She was now nothing more than a grieving woman. 

Elia sighed, crossing her legs. “I know my brother; he will not harm you, nor will his daughters. Not unless you are cruel to them and give them a reason to,” she said honestly. “But I give you my word, on my honor as a Queen; that if my brother causes any harm to you, you may seek sanctuary here. But if I may, Lady Cersei?” She asked, leaning her head down to look her in the eyes. 

Cersei nodded, bidding Elia to continue. 

“Get to know Oberyn,” Elia spoke softly. “Ask him these questions yourself. I can only tell you as much as I know and you still will not believe me. Get the word from the Viper’s mouth. Let him quell any fears you may have about marrying him, about leadership of the West. I do believe you will be surprised,” she shrugged. “I know many of the other Kingdoms think us Dornish as dirty, cruel, savages,” she growled, shaking her head. “But we are not. Get to know my brother,” she repeated. “As for the marriage,” she sighed. “I truly believe my brother will be the only one who will not cause you harm,” she spoke honestly. “Many men are still angry towards your father, and towards Lannisters in effect. Many men do not believe as we do in Dorne; they will take out their frustrations at their target: any Lannister they see. Even you,” she raised an eyebrow. “We as women are seen as walking wombs who do not add much to any House besides heirs and the continuation of a bloodline. Men do not care about our feelings or if they are brutal towards us; once we become theirs, we are their property,” her eyes quickly shifted towards Rhaegar’s. “My brother reserves his anger for those who are responsible for it. And you are not responsible for any actions of your father.” 

Cersei’s shoulders dropped at that last sentence. She nodded slightly. “Fine. I will speak to Prince Oberyn.” 

“Good,” Elia said, patting Cersei’s knee. “Do feel free to come to me with any questions regarding your marriage, children, the Sand Snakes,” she smiled at the mention of the nickname many citizens have given her nieces by Oberyn. “Or anything else.”

\----

“Lady Cersei, you wanted to meet with me?” Oberyn walked up to the young girl who was sitting on a bench by a garden. 

Cersei blinked, before standing. “Yes, Prince Oberyn. I know we are to be wed soon, and I have questions I must needs ask of you to ease my mind. Are you available to speak with me?” 

“Yes, I am, my Lady,” Oberyn nodded. “I am here for you,” he cocked his arm, waiting for Cersei to knit her arm through his. 

Cersei took a deep breath before looking around. “And our chaperone?”

Oberyn took a look back, gesturing. 

His three sand snake daughters came forward. 

Oberyn raised an eyebrow at Cersei’s paled face. “These are my daughters. Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene. My youngest, Sarella, is with Rhaenys. I’m sure you don’t have a problem with them chaperoning us?” He asked. 

Cersei gulped slightly. These were to be her stepdaughters. “No, I don’t,” she blinked. She linked her arm with Oberyn’s, watching the young girls take their places behind them. They shared an awkward silence as Cersei did not know what to say. 

Obeyrn trolled his eyes. “Have you any concerns, Lady Cersei? My sister, the Queen Elia, made me aware that you may have some questions regarding our impending marriage?”

“Plenty, Prince Oberyn,” the Lannister replied, looking down at her feet.

Oberyn let out a chuckle. “Come now, Lady Cersei. Where is the lioness I’ve seen and heard so much about? The Lioness of the Rock, they call you,” he smirked. “You are not this shy girl to keep her head bowed and whimpering. It is known of your prowess and your intelligence. Don’t mock me by playing the mummer.”

Cersei sneered, lifting her head up. “I am not happy with this marriage.”

“Neither am I,” he laughed. “I much prefer to be a free man, travelling the Kingdoms and the other countries, learning from the many cultures we have here in this large world, discovering new lands,” he breathed. 

“Sowing your wild oats?” Cersei glanced a look back at the Sand Snakes, the eldest playing with a dagger in her hand. 

Oberyn noticed her look. “Sure. But keep in mind, Lady Cersei. That once I take my marriage oaths, I take them seriously. I will not father another child unless it is yours. I will be faithful to you, if you wish me to be. If you want to take a paramour, I will allow it, as long as you allow me the same right,” he told her. “Think what you may of us in Dorne, but we are vastly different from the rest of the Kingdoms. We tend to treat our partners with respect and loyalty unless we are wronged first,” his eyes darkened and gave her a slight glare. “I can be your greatest partner and asset in this world or I can be your worst enemy. It will only be your choice, Lady Cersei.”

Cersei looked into the man’s dark brown eyes, eyes that matched his sister’s, as she shivered. “What are your plans for the West?” She asked plainly. “Is your goal to funnel all our gold to Dorne?”

Oberyn smiled. “Blunt. I like that. Tis a quality I have as well,” he nodded his approval. 

Cersei blushed against her will. She always loved compliments. 

“Dorne has its own trade agreements; we don’t need more coin,” he spoke smoothly. There was no way Oberyn was going to tell Cersei about Dorne and the North’s agreement to trade. That was still heavily underwraps. “However, I believe a fairer distribution of coin could be achieved; not just for Dorne, but for all of the Kingdoms.”

Cersei’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean, your Grace?”

“Dorne taxes the other Kingdoms higher from our fruits and spices, our wines and horses. Many of the Kingdoms enjoy our blood oranges, our tangerines, other citrus fruits, our paprika, pepper, garlic, and other spices,” Oberyn spoke. “But it is known that the Kingdoms forgo purchasing our foods unless necessary. But we tax so high because it is difficult to grow these foods. I’d hope, as the Lord of the Rock and in effect the richest man in Westeros, to send some money to Dorne as an investment only,” he stressed. “To help them create an irrigation method that I’ve heard of from Moraq. The irrigation system would be highly successful from my studies, and we would have more harvest, which would lead to more foods and wines being made and available, and lower taxes for the Kingdoms.”

“And would the West be a part of this venture?” Cersei asked.

“But of course,” Oberyn smiled. “The West would see their investment returned with interest,” he wriggled his eyebrows playfully. “And all of Dorne would know that it was from the West that helped flower the harvests. With more irrigation waters, Dorne can build more towns, more people would be born, which would mean more workers, and more foods to be made. Soon, after ten or twenty years, instead of blood oranges being a rarity only had at high parties and tourneys, every household in the Seven Kingdoms could enjoy the citrus at their own leisure.”

Cersei pursed her lips. It did sound good. Though she would never admit it, Dornish sour wine and orange were her favorites. She rarely got to have it as those two items were among the highest taxed products from Dorne, and Father did not seem to enjoy it as thoroughly as she did. A pang hit her chest as she thought of her father. She blinked her eyes tightly to push away the pain. “Is that all you would do?”

“As I am not Lord of the West yet, I do not know,” Oberyn said honestly. “I would hope my lady wife who stood by her father’s side as Lady of the Rock would assist me with matters.”

Cersei stopped in her tracks, causing the little girls who were behind them to pause in confusion. “You would let me council you?” Father never did.

“Of course,” Oberyn nodded, confused at Cersei’s shock and puzzlement. He turned to her, facing her directly. “You have lived on the Rock your entire life; you know the people, the cultures, everything about the land. I would need you by my side to help me become a fair and just Lord. I would have you by my side in all matters,” he spoke frankly, then sighed. “Lady Cersei, I know the Six Kingdoms are vastly different, but I was raised by my mother. My mother who was the Ruling Princess of Dorne. And she taught all of her children how to rule, but also how to  _ listen _ ,” he stressed. “She taught us to listen to the people we trusted and who knew more than us. I do not share the thoughts of my sex, whom believe women are nothing more than wombs. Women are more than that. Women have brains; you are intelligent, you are cunning, graceful, and so much more. Just look at my mother, my sister, my past ancestors. You are more than your capability of having children. You will not be just a broodmare in our marriage. You will be my partner in all ways,” he spoke passionately. 

Cersei blinked, staring at Oberyn. Tears welled in her eyes, but this time she did not hide them. She let her tears flow. She had never been told this before. All her life, all of the men in her life spoke about how important she was. How, through her, a King with Lannister blood would be on the throne. As soon as her flower bloomed, Tywin began plotting to bring her to court. Her Aunt Genna taught her how to seduce a man, which she practiced on her brother. She wasn’t allowed to wield a sword no matter how much she wanted to. She was raised to be the perfect lady, and perfect Queen. “Is this what it’s like in Dorne?”

“Yes,” Oberyn nodded. “Of course, with all lands, not everyone agrees. But this is what the majority of Dorne believes. Look at my daughters,” he turned, waving his hands towards them. “I allowed them their choice of dress, within reason,” he winked at Obara who glared at him. “Obara expressed that she wants to learn how to fight with a spear, so I am training her. She hates wearing gowns, so I allow her to wear breeches. Nymeria prefers hidden combat, so I am teaching her how to hide her weapons. Unlike her elder sister, she appreciates the gowns and alters her own to hide her weapons.”

Nymeria smiled at Cersei. The small brown skinned girl reached up to her ponytail and pulled out a small dagger that was concealed. She flipped it in her hand and then placed it back into her hair. 

“Tyene prefers poisons. She enjoys the mummery of pretending to be a pious child,” Oberyn smirked. “And Sarella is still young and still thinking of what she wants to do in the world. When you become my wife, you will be granted that same opportunity,” he turned back to her. “If you want to take a paramour and only lay with me for children, you may do that. But give me equality in return. If you want to wear breeches and ride horses all day, you may do that. If you wish to help me rule, you may do that. I will not hold you back from doing what your heart wishes to do,” Oberyn looked at Cersei carefully, holding her hands in his. “But know this, if you try to betray me or my family, I will kill you. With no hesitation,” he stared darkly into her eyes. “But if you find a kinship in me, if we become partners, there will be no one left alive if they try to hurt you. Whether you become my friend, my lover, or just a partnership in ruling, once you have earned my trust, you have gained a loyal person by your side.” 

Cersei blinked, taking in all of the information that Oberyn told her. Her chest felt tight, overwhelmed with her emotions, her confusion. “I don’t trust you,” she told him honestly. 

“I wouldn’t either if I were you, Lady Cersei,” Oberyn smiled. 

“But I hope to learn,” Cersei looked up at him and smiled, her first true smile since she was brought to King’s Landing for her father’s trial. “May we entreat more often so we have a chance to grow trust before our marriage?”

Oberyn gave her a small smile and nodded. “Of course. That was my sister’s wish as well. We will not wed until you decide to.”

Cersei nodded. Maybe becoming a Martell wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. 

\---

“Mama, mama, look!” Rhaenys cheered from her floating spot in the water. She was in the hidden pond, swimming with her brother and cousins. She was floating on her back while Nymeisto supported her. The young Princess had her hands in the hair and manipulated the water to create two arches around her and the Greenblood. 

“Look at you Rhaenys!” Elia cheered for her daughter. “You are doing so well!” She was kneeling by the weirwood tree with Ned Stark, tending to the dirt and pulling out different roots. Their goal was to plant more weirwood trees around the pond so that they could have more of a sacred space and invite more of their ancestors to the land. 

Ned turned to see Prince Aegon playfully splash his brother. He smiled as it was an endearing sight for him. “I am surprised you allowed Jon to this sacred area, Elia,” he turned back to the Dornish woman.    
  


Elia smiled and shook her head. “How many times do I have to tell you, Ned? I do not begrudge him for anything. And he has Stark blood; this sacred spot is his just as it is mine and my children’s. He has his own magic,” she looked to the small pale boy who smiled as his white haired older brother tried to teach him how to walk. “And he plays an important role in what is to come. He deserves to be here as well.” 

Ned gave her a smile as he roughly pulled out a root. 

_ Blood _ . 

The red leaves of the weirwood tree chimed against one another as the wind picked up. 

Elia and Ned looked at each other curiously, knowing by now that it was the Old Gods’ signal. They both turned to the pond, seeing the water still. The Spirits of the Rhoyne’s signal was the scent of water and waves beginning to pick up. Mother Rhoyne’s signal was a feeling of waves crashing throughout your body. 

_ Blood _ . 

Ned licked his lips. He dug his hands into the dirt, up to his wrist. He motioned for Elia to do the same. Once both of their hands were in the dirt, he nodded.  _ What is it?  _ He spoke through his mind, knowing that the connection of the tree would allow Elia to hear him too. The magic of the Old Gods was beginning to be easier to the Lord of Winterfell. 

_ Blood to sssssssustain the tree. To fertilize the tree.  _

Elia furrowed her eyebrows.  _ You require further blood from us? _

_ For other treessssss to grow faster, yesssssss. To cover this land.  _

Ned took in a deep breath.  _ More weirwood trees for this patch of land? _

_ Yesssss.  _ The wind hissed back.  _ More to cover. More ssssssso that we may walk again and help our children with the Old magic.  _

Elia blinked in surprise.  _ You can corporealize with enough cover? _

_ Yesssss. There is none left to teach the Old magic. Ssssso we musssssst. We are yearssssss behind proper training. Eddard...you musssssst go home...our magic does well with weirwood treessssss, but the North has bred and buried all weirwood. Your magic will grow quicker there.  _

Ned nodded.  _ Should I bring my nephew?  _

Elia turned her head and glared at him. She grit her teeth as she shook her head. She was tired of explaining to him that she would care for the child. She not only wanted to care for Jonell, but she also needed Jonell to form a bonding relationship with his siblings in order to avoid future conflict. 

_ No. The Lightbringer must grow with a mother first. With Princess Elia. There will come a time when Jonell should begin his visits and train with the Old magic. But it is not yet.  _

_ Is only Ned’s blood required for the growth?  _ Elia chose to ask.

_ Yesssss. Unless you and Eddard share a blood pact. Then your blood shall carry hints of Northern blood and you are free to populate thissss land with weirwoods. Your pond will grow larger. Work on your water magic, Princessssss. There will come a time when the Rhoynish water will reach the North...you shall have a river of Rhonye once again…connecting these two magical landssss.  _

Elia blinked, turning to Ned. They both knew the spirits and their ancestors were powerful. Elia comes from the Orphans of the Greenblood with their Rhoynish magic, of Nymeria of Ny Sar who held magic in her veins, of Targaryens who contained the magic of Valyria, of Daenys who was a seer. She had bits of Andal blood in her, containing the magic from the Children of the Forest and greenseers. 

Ned had much of his blood from the First Men who not only worked with the Children of the Forest, but also laid with them. His blood held the magic of wargs, of the many Starks who could hold Ice, a magical weapon. Of Bran the Builder, who’s magic built the Wall. His blood descended from the very first Men who inhabited this land. 

Such magic as this could never be contained. 

But it had been. 

For years, and decades, and centuries. 

And now the magic was being released. And it has many years to catch up to. 

A shiver went across Ned and Elia’s back as they looked up at the swaying and loud leaves of the weirwood. Their blood was singing. 

\----

“Now, explain to me why we have to do this again?” Oberyn sat in his sister’s solar, an incredulous look on his face. He looked between Ned and Elia who’s faces held pure calm. 

Elia rolled her eyes. “Ned is returning to the North to relearn the magic of Old. On his way, he will place roots of weirwoods strategically so that when the river that our ancestors and Spirits promised us begins to form, it has a path to take. But we must first grow our pond here,” she sighed. She had gone over this with her brother multiple times but his head was just too thick and his personality too stubborn to listen. 

Ned pursed his lips to keep his chuckle to himself. Elia and Oberyn’s arguing reminded him of the arguing that Brandon and Benjen would have. An ache grew in his heart as he remembered his older brother. “But that much blood takes time, and would make me weak,” he continued where Elia left off. “The trees whispered of a ritual Elia and I can do, where I give her some of my blood and it shall become a part of hers. And she would be able to populate this area on her own as I travel back.”

“Blood magic,” Oberyn said simply. “You’re speaking of blood magic.”

Elia scoffed. “Don’t be so surprised, brother. You have studied the many dark practices during your time in Essos.”

“Yes, but did they tell you how much blood would be required?” Oberyn shook his head. He began to pace around the room. “Blood rituals are easy, but they can turn dark even easier. You must have a trained person to guide you. You cannot just..trade blood,” he spurted. “It is not as simple as that.”

Elia thought about it and her brother was right. She did not want any blood ritual going wrong. She previously heard stories and legends of just how volatile blood magic could be. “So what do you suggest brother? Ned must return back to Winterfell; his wife and son are waiting for him. We’ve kept him from his home long enough. We cannot summon a blood maester from Essos and bring them over; there isn’t enough time,” she released a breath. 

As if on cue, Elia’s door knocked. 

“Your grace, Prince Oberyn, Lord Stark,” Jaime opened the door, standing to the side to reveal their guests. “Nymeisto and Old Nan would like to have an audience with the three of you.” 

Elia slowly turned her head to Ned and blinked. 

Ned took in a sharp breath. 

Oberyn snorted. “I like these Gods of ours,” he chuckled. “I assume you are to help with this blood ritual?” He asked the two mages. 

Old Nan laughed. “Of course. It’s why I brought Lyanna,” she reached behind her and grabbed the girl’s arm. “Unruly she may be, but she was always good at blood rituals when she was a girl. Before she grew into a woman who decided she was not to follow the ways of the world,” she glared at the Lady Wolf of the North. 

Nymeisto was more calm than Old Nan. “I am here to help revitize Queen Elia and Lord Ned in case too much blood is taken,” they spoke in a more breathy tone. 

“Come in,” Elia gestured. “Will you be requiring anything specific?” 

Old Nan turned to Lyanna. “You know what they need, little Wolf? I can only remember the words needed for the ritual. And I have the ribbon,” she reached into her gray dress and pulled out an old weathered ribbon. “It’s from the time of the First Men,” her eyes shined as she looked at the yellowed fabric. “Bran the Builder himself used this for a blood ritual.”

Lyanna nodded her head. She still looked gaunt, dark circles were below her eyes, and she carried herself with a hunch. Her shoulders were down, looking very much like a wounded animal. “A goblet. And a dagger,” she said. “And just normal gauze for the cuts afterwards.”

Elia nodded, staring at the young girl carefully. “Jaime, could you? We have a dagger. We would just need a goblet and gauze.” 

“Of course, Elia,” Jaime too stared at Lyanna carefully. His guard was always up when it came to her. He did not trust her. “I shall return in a moment. “Old Nan, will any goblet do, or do you need a specific kind?”

Old Nan shook her head. “Gold, I believe?”

“No, nan. Silver,” Lyanna spoke. “Gold is too malleable. Silver is needed. A goblet of silver if you can find one, Ser Jaime. If a goblet of silver is not available, a normal goblet of bronze may be used.”

Jaime nodded stiffly before taking his leave. 

“What are the goblets for?” Oberyn asked. He reached into his tunic and pulled out a dagger. 

Elia hissed. “Not your daggers, you dolt! They are all tipped with poison and could kill Ned!” She got up from her chaise and walked over to one of her many drawers. She opened the top drawer and with her other hand tapped around the top of the table. She then kicked the bottom and a smaller drawer popped out of the top drawer. She grabbed a silver dagger from the secret compartment and closed each drawer. “We must ask our family to send me another weapons chest. Possibly one for Rhaenys as well,” she told her brother. 

Old Nan was amused. “I quite like you, your grace.”

  
Elia felt the heat come up to her face as she hid her shy smile. She walked back to her chaise and reclaimed her seat before her brother could steal it from her. 

“The goblets are not for what you think, my Prince,” Old Nan smiled. “We are not going to take that much blood from Queen Elia and Ned. They must drink a specific drink made by a Northerner.”

Lyanna pulled out a small empty vial from her dress. “The drink consists of mainly weirwood berries with the bark of the weirwood. Thankfully the apothecary held all of the herbs we would need.” Her small bag that was around her waist smelled of many herbs. 

“What kind of herbs?” Oberyn narrowed his eyes at the girl, his hands outstretched for her pouch so that he can rummage through it. 

Lyanna sighed. “I understand you do not trust me, Prince Oberyn. But I would not do anything to hurt Queen Elia. Not after all the kindness she has done for me,” Lyanna dared a look to Elia, blinking away her tears. “I know now that Elia, with her water magic awakened, is a large part of our salvation. I would not dare to doom our world by trying to rid her from it due to my own selfishness. Anyways, I do not seek evil towards Elia. At all. I have no ill feelings about her. I do this,” she shook the empty vial. “Because I must. If this is the only way I can gain repentance with my ancestors and the Old Gods, then I shall serve however I must.” 

Ned cleared his throat, trying to remove the lump that now climbed its way up his body. “The herbs, Lya?” He asked softly. He held his hand out to her, giving her an olive branch. How she betrayed their family aside, she was still of his blood, and his sister. 

Lyanna walked over to Ned’s side, sitting beside him and curling herself around his arm. “Equal parts weirwood berries to verbena. The berries for the connection to the Old Gods, verbena to enhance communication with nature. Yarrow, sage, bay, and meadowsweet for psychic enhancements. Mint for clarity of mind,” she sounded more confident as she listed off the herbs. “Feverfew for fidelity to solidify the connection between the blood. Heliotrope for clairvoyance and weirwood bark to stir it. Typically we just use normal water or the juice of the berries as the liquid part, but I asked Nymesito if there was anything of the Rhoyne that we could use,” She looked up to Nymeisto. 

Elia watched the small smile on Lyanna’s face grow as she listed the herbs. This is where Lyanna was happy. She could see a glow appear on Lyanna’s face as she spoke more about the Old magic. This is what she was meant to do. She could see how Old Nan was disappointed with Lyanna for shirking her magical abilities; it was clear to see that the girl was meant for this magic. It called to her and warmed her just as the water magic did to Elia. 

Nymeisto took over. “Lady Lyanna asked me if there was anything else besides water from the Rhoyne to add, which we did,” they said. “But I also included the juice of a blood orange,” they smirked. “Spirits do love themselves humor from time to time,” they chuckled. “As well as a few Dornish herbs; hibiscus for divination, daisy to bring forth the presence of nature spirits, jasmine for tranquility and prosperity, allspice for purification.”

“It sounds…” Elia trailed off.

“Like it tastes fucking horrible,” Oberyn laughed. “Good luck, Ned, sister,” he cackled. 

“Oh do not laugh, Prince Oberyn,” Old Nan had a sly smile on her face. “You will be partaking in this ritual as well, as we will need weirwoods down in Dorne as well. You three will be connected by blood.”

“Qoy Qoyi,” Oberyn chuckled under his breath. 

Elia turned to him. “Why does that sound familiar?” Her face was scrunched, trying to recall those words. 

“Remember our horse trainer when we were smaller, Lia?” Oberyn smiled. “He was Dothraki.” 

“You were trained on horse by a Dothraki rider?” Ned’s eyes lit up, the rider in him excited. He turned to Lyanna who’s eyes were also alight in excitement. 

Elia blinked, smirking at the Lord of Winterfell. “Dorne is a landing place for many cultures and our mother took advantage of that.”

Oberyn nodded. “Qoy Qoyi translates to blood of my blood. Typically it is used between a Khal and his bloodrider to describe their relationship, but our Dothraki teacher…” he struggled with this memory. 

“Zhowak,” the name was breathy as it left Elia’s mouth. Her tongue easily formed the Dothraki words. Rhoynish and Dothraki shared similar vowel sounds in their respective languages so it came easy to her to learn the small Dothraki that she did know. “He was the son of a former Khal...his father was defeated by a Khal...Bharbo and he fled to Westeros in shame with his Khalessi so that Bharbo could not take her from him.”

“He could not take his father’s position?” Lyanna inquired. 

“No,” Elia shook her head. “Khals earn their position through battle. Once a Khal kills another Khal, the winning Khal absorbs his khalassar. The winning Khal can choose to take the former’s children under his wing, but most of the time, they kill them to avoid any revenge attempts by the children,” she spoke. 

“Zhowak,” Oberyn grinned. He turned the room. “His name meant dangerous in Dothraki. He was ever my inspiration to be better at horse riding. I was better with a spear in my hand while riding. It was the same principle as the Dothraki with their arakhs. Elia was better with a bow on horseback as well as partnered riding. Our cousin, Jahven, was the one with a whip. Poor Doran never got taught by Zhowak.”

“Which is just as well,” Elia giggled. “His mind was more apt for ruling and books. Oberyn’s was for battle and treachery.”

“And yours?” Ned asked. 

“Both,” Elia smirked. 

“You used a bow on horseback?” Lyanna’s eyes were still lit with excitement. 

“Yes,” Elia gave her a kind smile. “I can’t use a dagger because it’s too close of a contact. But I preferred being beyond close quarters. Especially as a woman and with my on and off health. I was always good with a bow, but Zhowak and his wife, Hoyi, challenged me,” she closed her eyes at the memory of them. “They said because of my unbalanced health, I could remain away from the battle, but I did not have to be defenseless nor did I have to be unhelpful. I could help with my bow and horse.” 

Lyanna grinned at Elia, enjoying her tales of horses and weaponry. 

Elia blinked. If Lyanna did not run away with Rhaegar, she could see a friend within Lyanna. But the damage was done and lines were drawn. She and Lyanna were not destined to be friends in this lifetime. “Why do you bring up qoy qoyi, brother?”

Oberyn shook his head. “We will be qoy qoyi; Martells and Starks. We are not only in trade agreements, we are sharing magic, and now sharing blood. We are essentially family,” he looked up at Ned and Lyanna, his eyes narrowing slightly at Lyanna’s. 

“And that is what the Old Gods, Mother Rhoyne, the Spirits, and your ancestors are intending,” Old Nan looked between the pair of siblings. “Your magic has never joined together before now and the last Lightbringer barely defeated the Night King and his wights. Perhaps this is what is needed to fully defeat the Night King for good. The joining together of Fire and Ice.”

Lyanna shook her head. “That is not real. Rhaegar said he and I were fire and ice, and look what we brought forth.”

“Perhaps King Rhaegar was not the fire to your ice,” Nymeisto spoke with their calm voice. “The sun is pure fire. And the Martells are originally of the sun. It is only from Nymeria that the spear was introduced,” they added as an afterthought. “Dorne itself is heat made into land. Perhaps the joining together of Fire and Ice meant the joining of the respective magic of your lands. The most north North being your frigid Ice with its Old magic; steadfast and grounding. And the most south South being the temperamental and unstable magic. The water magic from the Rhoyne is simply a conduit for both. The water joining with the cold creates Ice, and the water joining with Fire tempers the heat enough to work with,” they shrugged. “The Targaryen’s fire was only the fire of their dragons. But there are no dragons. The true fire is Dorne.” 

Elia and Oberyn, and Ned and Lyanna stared upon each other with new eyes with the contemplation in their minds. 

It made sense. The song of Ice and Fire did not mean the North and a Targaryen. How could a land join together with one person? It is the joining, the blending of the two lands, trading and communication that creates a song. The North and Dorne. Ice and Fire. 

The pact of Ice and Fire was also wrong. It was made under a misinterpretation of a prophecy. 

The implications of just how badly Rhaegar interpreted the prophecies would follow them for generations. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whatitdobaybeeeee!
> 
> long time no talk! so sorry for the long wait! i started a new job and i had to focus on training for it but i found some time to write and post!
> 
> (i also unfortunately have a new idea for a AU prophecy!Take and also another idea for modern AU. and another for something else. all including elia. please help lol. though i intend to finish this fic before even posting the other ones but i am writing those too!) 
> 
> but please enjoy this new chapter and let me know how you guys like it!


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